VAIN    FORTUNE 


VAIN    FORTUNE 


BY 


GEORGE  MOORE 

AUTHOR    OF  "A    MUMMER'S  WIFE,"  "IMPRESSIONS  AND 
OPINIONS,"  "  A  DRAMA  IN  MUSLIN,"  ETC. 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
1892 


COPTBIQHT,  1899,  BY 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


Press  of  J.  J.  Little  &  Co. 
As  tor  Place,  New  York 


VAIN     FORTUNE 


CHAPTER  I. 

"  DEAREST  Emily,  you  must  prepare  your- 
self for  the  worst" 

"Is  he  dead?" 

"  Yes  ;  he  passed  away  quite  quietly.  To 
look  at  him  one  would  say  he  was  asleep  ;  he 
does  not  appear  to  have  suffered  at  all." 

"  Oh,  Julia,  Julia,  do  you  think  he  for- 
gave me?  I  could  not  do  what  he  asked 
me.  ...  I  loved  him  very  dearly  as  a  father, 
but  I  could  not  have  married  him." 

"  No,  dear,  you  could  not  Such  a  mar- 
riage would  have  been  most  unnatural ;  he  was 
more  than  forty  years  older  than  you." 

"I  do  not  think  he  ever  thought  of  such  a 
thing  until  about  a  month  or  six  weeks  ago. 
You  remember  how  I  ran  to  you  ?  I  was  as 
white  as  a  ghost,  and  I  trembled  like  a  leaf. 
I  could  hardly  speak.  .  .  .  You  remember?" 


2  VAIN  FORTUNE 

"  Yes,  I  remember ;  and  some  hours  after, 
when  I  came  into  this  room,  he  was  standing 
there,  just  there,  on  the  hearth-rug ;  there  was 
a  fearful  look  of  pain  and  despair  on  his 
face — he  looked  as  if  he  was  going  mad.  I 
never  saw  such  a  look  before,  and  I  never 
wish  to  see  such  a  look  again.  And  the 
effort  he  made  to  appear  unconcerned  when 
he  saw  me  was  perhaps  the  worst  part  of  it. 
I  pretended  to  see  nothing,  and  walked  away 
towards  the  window  and  looked  out.  But 
all  the  while  I  could  feel  that  some  terrible 
drama  was  passing  behind  me.  At  last  I 
had  to  look  round.  He  was  sitting  in  that 
chair,  his  elbows  on  his  knees,  clasping  his 
head  with  both  hands,  the  old,  gnarled  fingers 
twined  in  the  iron-gray  hair.  Then,  unable 
to  contain  himself  any  longer,  he  rushed  out 
of  the  room,  out  of  the  house,  and  across  the 
park." 

"  You  say  that  he  passed  away  quietly ;  he 
did  not  seem  to  suffer  at  all  ?  " 

"  No,  he  never  recovered  consciousness." 

"  But  do  you  think  that  my  refusal  to  marry 
him  had  anything  to  do  with  his  death  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  Emily ;  a  fit  of  apoplexy,  with  a 
man  of  his  age,  generally  ends  fatally." 


VAIN  FORTUNE  3 

"  Even  if  I  had  known  it  all  beforehand  I 
don't  think  I  could  have  acted  differently.  I 
could  not  have  married  him.  Indeed  I  could- 
n't, Julia,  not  even  if  I  k»ew  I  should  save 
his  life  by  doing  so.  I  dare  say  it  is  very 
wicked  of  me,  but " 

"  Dearest  Emily,  you  must  not  give  way  to 
such  thoughts  ;  you  did  quite  right  in  refus- 
ing to  marry  Mr.  Burnett.  It  was  very 
wrong  of  him  even  to  think  of  asking  you, 
and  if  he  had  lived  he  would  have  seen  how 
wrong  it  was  of  him  to  desire  such  a  thing." 

"  If  he  had  lived  !  But  then  he  didn't  live, 
not  even  long  enough  to  forgive  me,  and  when 
we  think  of  how  much  he  suffered — I  don't 
mean  in  dying,  you  say  he  passed  away  quiet- 
ly, but  all  this  last  month  how  heart-broken 
he  looked !  You  remember  when  he  sat  at  the 
head  of  the  table,  never  speaking  to  us,  and 
how  frightened  I  was  lest  I  should  meet  him 
on  the  stairs ;  I  used  to  stand  at  the  door  of 
my  room,  afraid  to  move.  I  know  he  suffered, 
poor  old  man.  I  was  very,  very  sorry  for  him. 
Indeed  I  was,  Julia,  for  I'm  not  selfish,  and 
when  I  think  now  that  he  died  without  for- 
giving me,  I  feel,  I  feel — oh,  I  feel  as  if  I 
should  like  to  die  myself.  Why  do  such 


4  VAIN  FORTUNE 

things  happen  to  me?  I  feel  just  as  miser- 
able now  as  I  used  to  when  I  lived  with  father 
and  mother,  who  could  not  agree.  I  have 
often  told  you  how  miserable  I  was  then,  but 
I  don't  think  you  ever  quite  understood.  I 
feel  just  the  same  now,  just  as  if  I  never 
wanted  to  see  any  one  or  anything  again.  I 
was  so  unhappy  when  I  was  a  child,  they 
thought  I  would  die,  and  I  should  have 
died  if  I  had  remained  listening  to  father 
and  mother  any  longer.  .  .  .  Every  one 
thought  I  was  so  lucky  when  Mr.  Burnett 
decided  to  adopt  me  and  leave  me  all  his 
money,  and  he  has  done  that,  poor  old  man, 
so  I  suppose  I  should  be  happy  ;  but  I'm  not." 

The  girl's  eyes  turned  instinctively  towards 
the  window  and  rested  for  a  moment  on  the 
fair,  green  prospects  of  the  park. 

"I  hated  to  listen  to  father  and  mother 
quarrelling,  but  I  loved  them,  and  I  had  not 
been  here  a  year  before  father  died,  and  dar- 
ling mother  was  not  long  following  him — only 
six  months.  Then  I  had  no  one :  a  few  distant 
relatives,  whom  I  knew  nothing  of,  whom  I 
did  not  care  for,  so  I  gave  all  my  love  to  Mr. 
Burnett  He  was  so  good  to  me ;  he  never 
denied  me  anything;  he  gave  me  everything, 


VAIN  FORTUNE  5 

even  you,  dearest  Julia.  When  he  thought 
I  wanted  a  companion,  he  found  you  for  me. 
I  learned  to  love  you.  You  became  my  best 
and  dearest  friend.  Then  things  seemed  to 
brighten  up,  and  I  thought  I  was  happy,  when 
all  this  dreadful  trouble  came  upon  us.  Don't 
let's  speak  of  it  more  than  we  can  help.  I  often 
wished  myself  dead.  Didn't  you,  Julia  ?  " 

Emily  Watson  told  the  story  of  her  misfor- 
tunes in  a  low,  musical  voice,  heedless  of  two 
or  three  interruptions,  hardly  conscious  of  her 
listener,  impressed  and  interested  by  the  fatal- 
ity of  circumstances  which  she  believed  in  de- 
sign against  her.  She  was  a  small,  slender  girl 
of  about  eighteen.  Her  abundant  chestnut  hair 
— exquisite,  soft,  and  silky — -was  looped  pict- 
uresquely and  fastened  with  a  thin  tortoise- 
shell  comb.  The  tiny  mouth  trembled,  and  the 
large,  prominent  eyes  reflected  a  strange,  yearn- 
ing soul.  She  was  dressed  in  white  muslin, 
and  the  fantastically  small  waist  was  confined 
with  a  white  band.  Her  friend  and  companion, 
Julia  Bentley,  was  a  woman  of  about  thirty, 
well  above  the  medium  height,  full-bosomed 
and  small-waisted.  The  type  was  Anglo- 
Saxon  even  to  commonplace.  The  face  was 
long,  with  a  look  of  instinctive  kindness  upon 


6  VAIN  FORTUNE 

it.  She  was  given  to  staring,  and  as  she  looked 
at  Emily,  her  blue  eyes  filled  with  an  expres- 
sion which  told  of  a  nature  at  once  affectionate 
and  intelligent.  Her  intelligence  was  expressed 
also  in  her  broad  forehead,  but  about  the 
lower  part  of  the  face  there  was  an  ominous 
droop,  not  ugly  nor  wicked,  only  indicative 
of  weakness  of  will.  Notwithstanding  this 
defect  and  the  commonplaceness  of  the  type, 
she  would  have  passed  anywhere  for  a  hand- 
some woman.  The  features  were  well  formed, 
and  the  rich  pink-and-white  complexion  and 
blond  gold  hair  were  sufficient  to  constitute 
a  claim  to  good  looks.  She  was  dressed  in 
yellow  linen,  and  wore  a  gold  bracelet  on  a 
well-turned  arm. 

The  room  was  a  long,  old-fashioned  drawing- 
room.  It  had  three  windows,  and  all  three 
were  filled  with  views  of  the  park,  now  grow- 
ing pale  in  the  evening  air.  The  flower- 
gardens  were  drawn  symmetrically  about  the 
house  and  were  set  with  blue  flower  vases  in 
which  there  were  red  geraniums.  It  was  a 
very  large  room,  nearly  forty  feet  long,  with 
old  portraits  on  the  walls — ugly  things  and  ill 
done ;  and  where  there  were  no  portraits  the 
walls  were  decorated  with  vine  leaves  and 


VAIN  FORTUNE  7 

mountai  ns.  The  parquetted  floor  was  parti  ally 
covered  with  skins,  and  the  furniture  seemed 
to  have  known  many  a  generation ;  some  of 
it  was  heavy  and  cumbersome,  some  of  it  was 
modern.  There  was.  a  grand  piano,  and  above 
it  two  full-length  portraits — a  lady  in  a  blue 
dress  and  a  man  in  black  velvet  knee- 
breeches.  At  the  end  of  a  long  silence,  Emily 
suddenly  threw  herself  weeping  into  Julia's 
arms. 

"  Oh,  you  are  my  only  friend  ;  you  will 
not  leave  me  now.  .  .  .  We  shall  always 
love  one  another,  shall  we  not?  If  anything 
ever  came  between  us  it  would  kill  me.  .  .  . 
That  poor  old  man  lying  dead  up-stairs !  He 
loved  me  very  dearly,  and  T  loved  him,  too. 
Yet  I  said  just  now  I  could  not  have  married 
him  even  if  I  had  known  it  would  save  his 
life.  I  was  wrong ;  yes,  I  would  have  mar- 
ried him  if  I  had  known.  .  .  .  You  don't 
believe  me?  " 

"  My  dearest  girl,  you  must  try  to  forget 
that  Mr.  Burnett  ever  entertained  so  foolish 
a  thought.  He  was  a  very  good  man,  and 
loved  you  for  a  long  time  as  he  should  have 
loved  you — as  a  daughter.  We  shall  respect 
his  memory  best  by  forgetting  the  events,  of 


8  VAIN  FORTUNE 

the  last  six  weeks.  And  now,  Emily,  dinner 
will  be  ready  at  seven  o'clock,  and  it  is  now 
six.  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  I  shall  go  out  for  a  little  walk.  I  shall  go 
down  and  see  the  swans." 

"  Shall  I  come  with  you  ?  M 

"  No,  thank  you,  dear ;  I  think  I'd  sooner  be 
alone.  I  want  to  think." 

Julia  looked  a  moment  anxiously  at  this 
fragile  girl,  whose  tiny  head  was  poised  on  a 
long,  delicate  neck  like  a  fruit  on  its  stem. 

"  Yes,  go  for  a  walk,  dear,"  said  Julia ;  "  it 
will  do  you  good.  Shall  I  go  and  fetch  your 
hat  and  jacket  ?  " 

"  No,  thank  you,  I  will  not  trouble  you;  I'll 
go  myself." 

"  No,  Emily,  I  think  you  had  better  let  me 

go-" 

"  Oh,  no;  I  am  not  afraid."  And  she  went 
up  the  wide  oak  staircase,  thinking  of  the 
man  who  lay  dead  in  the  room  at  the  end  of 
the  passage.  She  was  conscious  of  a  sense  of 
dread;  the  house  seemed  to  wear  a  strange 
air,  and  her  dog,  Dandy,  was  conscious  of  it, 
too ;  he  was  more  silent,  less  joyful  than  usual. 
And  when  she  came  from  her  room,  dressed  to 
go  out,  instead  of  rushing  down-stairs,  bark- 


VAIN  FORTUNE  9 

ing  with  joy,  he  dropped  his  tail  and  lingered 
at  the  end  of  the  passage.  She  called  him  ; 
he  still  hesitated,  and  then,  yielding  to  a  sud- 
den desire,  she  went  down  the  passage  and 
knocked  at  the  door  of  the  room.  The 
nurse  answered  her  knock. 

"  Oh,  don't  come  in,  miss." 

"  Why  not?  I  want  to  see  him  before  he 
goes  away  forever."  The  nurse  drew  back. 
How  still  he  lay !  Never  would  that  face 
speak  or  laugh  or  see  again.  Upon  the  limp, 
white  curtains  of  an  old  four-posted  bed  she 
saw  the  memorable  profile — stern,  unrelent- 
ing— soon  to  fall  away  into  hideous  dust. 
Although  sixty-five,  his  head  was  covered 
with  short,  thick,  iron-gray  hair ;  the  beard, 
too,  was  short  and  thick,  and  iron-gray.  The 
face  was  rugged,  and  when  Emily  touched  the 
coarse  hand,  telling  of  a  life  of  toil,  she  started 
— it  was  singularly  cold.  Fear  and  sorrow  in 
like  measure  choked  her,  and  her  soul  awoke, 
and  tremblingly  she  walked  out  of  the  house, 
glad  to  breathe  the  sweet  evening  air.  She 
walked  towards  the  artificial  water.  The  sky 
was  melancholy  and  gray,  and  the  park  lay 
before  her,  silent  and  sad,  hushed  and  still. 
She  leaned  on  the  balustrade  of  the  bridge, 


10  VAIN  FORTUNE 

realizing  more  distinctly  than  she  had  ever 
done  before  the  spectacle  of  life.  Through 
the  shadows  of  the  darkening  island  two 
swans  floated  softly,  leaving  behind  slight 
silver  lines ;  above,  the  swallows  flew  high  in 
the  evening.  Peace  and  profound  silence, 
reflections  distinct  but  colorless,  forgetful- 
ness  of  the  past.  There  was  sensation  of 
death,  too,  in  this  cold,  mournful  water,  and 
in  the  silence  that  hung  about  it,  and  in  some 
vague  way  it  reminded  Emily  of  her  own  life. 
She  had  known  little  else  but  death  ;  her  life 
seemed  full  of  death ;  and  those  reflections,  so 
distinct  and  so  colorless,  were  like  the  mem- 
ories lying  within  her  soul.  In  a  sudden  ex- 
pansion of  youth  she  wondered.  How  won- 
derful all  things  were,  how  wonderful  I  Her 
own  trembling  life,  so  strangely  personal,  so 
strangely  intense,  what  did  it  mean,  what 
meaning  had  it  in  the  great,  wide  world  ?  The 
impressive  tranquillity  of  the  scene  and  the 
hour,  the  pale  death  of  the  day,  lying  now  like 
a  flower  on  the  water,  raised  her  out  of  her- 
self, and  she  saw  and  felt  more  distinctly  than 
she  had  ever  done  before.  There  arose  in  her  a 
nervous  and  passionate  interest  in  herself.  She 
seemed  so  strange,  so  wonderful.  Her  child- 


VAIN  FORTUNE  H 

hood  was  in  itself  an  enigma,  and  an  enchant- 
ment— that  sad  and  sorrowful  childhood  of 
hers,  passed  in  that  old  London  house;  her 
mother's  love  for  her;  her  cruel,  stern  step- 
father, and  the  endless  quarrels  between  her 
father  and  mother,  which  made  her  young  life 
so  unbearable,  so  wretched,  that  she  could 
never  think  of  those  years  without  tears  rising 
to  her  eyes.  And  then  the  going  away,  com- 
ing to  live  with  Mr.  Burnett !  The  death  of 
her  father  and  her  dear  mother,  so  sudden, 
following  so  soon  one  after  the  other.  How 
much  there  had  been  in  her  life,  how  wonder- 
ful it  was !  Her  love  of  Mr.  Burnett,  and  then 
that  bitter  and  passionate  change  in  him! 
That  proposal  of  marriage ;  could  she  ever 
forget  it?  And  then  this  cruel  and  sudden 
death.  Everything  she  had  ever  loved  had 
been  taken  from  her.  Only  Julia  remained, 
and  should  Julia  be  taken  from  her,  she  felt 
that  she  must  die.  But  that  would  not,  could 
not,  happen.  She  was  now  mistress  of  Ash- 
wood,  she  was  a  great  heiress ;  and  she  and 
Julia  would  live  always  together,  they  would 
always  love  one  another,  they  would  always 
live  here  in  this  beautiful  place  which  they 
loved  so  well. 


12  VAIN  FORTUNE 

The  dream  pursued  its  lightening  way ;  the 
shadows  thickened  on  the  waters.  A  silver 
star  appeared,  and  in  the  darkness  where  the 
swans  were  floating,  and  in  the  sky  where  the 
star  was  shining,  there  passed  at  intervals  a 
vision — a  vision  of  a  face,  something  with 
light  on  its  hair,  and  a  sad  smile  on  its  lips. 
That  was  all  she  could  see  of  the  face,  for  when 
she  looked  closer  it  vanished,  and  she  had  for- 
gotten it  It  returned  tantalizingly,  like  the 
memory  of  a  faded  picture.  She  smiled  at 
herself,  and  said  to  herself  that  she  wanted 
no  young  man,  nor  any  love  but  Julia's.  She 
would  never  marry,  of  that  she  was  sure. 
She  and  Julia  would  live  together  always, 
and  then,  and  then  ?  She  could  not  see  her- 
self as  an  old  woman.  She  felt  she  would  not 
live  to  be  an  old  woman.  What  would  be  her 
end?  She  could  imagine  no  appropriate  end, 
for  she  was  so  different,  so  unlike  other  girls. 
Then,  awaking  suddenly  from  her  dream, 
she  walked  towards  the  house,  a  little  dazed,  a 
little  frightened,  for  her  dream  lay  heavily 
upon  her. 


CHAPTER  It 

A  FEW  distant  relatives  attended  the  fu- 
neral, but  Mr.  Burnett's  nephew,  Mr.  Hubert 
Price,  was  not  there.  His  address  was  not 
known,  and  there  seemed  to  be  no  means  of 
communicating  with  him.  His  absence  was 
to  be  regretted,  but  it  was  felt  that  it  was  not 
without  its  compensations.  For  Mr.  Hubert 
Price  was  vaguely  supposed  to  be  a  very  ter- 
rible person.  Mr.  Burnett  never  willingly 
alluded  to  him,  and  if  his  name  happened  to 
come  into  the  conversation,  and  Emily  asked 
a  question,  her  curiosity  was  checked  and  the 
subject  was  dropped.  Julia  had  no  more 
than  heard  of  him,  and  it  had  seemed  to  her 
best  not  to  inquire  into  Mr.  Burnett's  reason 
for  breaking  so  utterly  with  the  nearest  of 
kin,  and  leaving  his  money  to  Emily  ;  and 
it  now  seemed  to  her  especially  fortunate  that 
he  could  not  be  invited  to  the  funeral.  From 
every  point  of  view,  a  meeting  between  Emily 
and  her  cousin  was  not  desirable.  A  young 
girl  like  Emily  should  not  be  brought  into 


14  VAIN  FORTUNE 

contact  with  a  young  man  of  such  doubtful 
antecedents.  There  were  at  the  funeral  a  few 
personal  friends  who  lived  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, the  farmers  on  the  estate,  and  the  labor- 
ers ;  and  when  the  little  crowd  separated 
outside  the  church,  Emily  and  Julia  walked 
back  to  Ashwood  with  Mr.  Grandly,  Mr. 
Burnett's  intimate  friend  and  solicitor.  They 
returned  through  the  park,  hardly  speaking 
at  all,  Emily  absent-minded  as  usual,  waving 
her  parasol  occasionally  at  a  passing  butterfly. 
The  grass  was  warm  and  beautiful  to  look 
on,  and  they  lingered,  prolonging  the  walk. 
It  was  very  good  of  Mr.  Grandly  to  accom- 
pany them  back ;  he  might  have  gone  on 
straight  to  the  station,  so  Julia  thought,  and 
she  was  surprised  indeed  when,  instead  of 
bidding  them  good-by  at  the  front  door,  he 
said: 

"  Before  I  return  to  London  I  have  a  com- 
munication to  make  to  both  you  ladies.  Will 
it  suit  you  to  come  into  the  drawing-room 
with  me  ?  " 

"  Perfectly,  so  far  as  I'm  concerned ;  and 
you,  Emily?" 

"  Oh,  I've  nothing  to  do;  but  if  it  is  about 
business,  Julia  will  attend — 


VAIN  FORTUNE  15 

"  I  think  you  had  better  be  present,  Miss 
Watson." 

Mr.  Grandly  was  a  tall,  massive  man  with 
benevolent  features  ;  his  bald,  pink  skull  was 
partly  covered  with  one  lock  of  white  hair. 
There  was  an  anxious  look  in  his  pale,  deep- 
set  eyes  which  impressed  Julia,  and  she  said : 
"I  hope  this  communication  you  have  to 
make  to  us  is  not  of  a  painful  nature.  We 
have " 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Bentley,  I  know  that  you  have 
been  severely  tried  lately,  but  there  is  no  help 
for  it.  I  cannot  keep  you  in  ignorance  any 
longer  of  certain  facts  relating  to  Mr.  Bur- 
nett's will."  The  words  "will"  and  "facts" 
struck  on  Emily's  ear.  She  had  been  think- 
ing about  her  fortune.  The  very  ground  she 
was  walking  on  was  hers.  She  was  the  owner 
of  this  beautiful  park;  it  seemed  like  a  fairy 
tale.  And  that  house,  that  dear,  old-fashioned 
house,  that  rambling,  funny  old  place  of  all  sizes 
and  shapes,  full  of  deep  staircases  and  pictures, 
was  all  hers.  Then  her  eyes  wandered  from 
her  flowers  down  the  smooth  wide  drive,  down 
to  the  placid  water  crossed  by  the  great  or- 
namental bridge,  the  island  where  she  had 
watched  the  swans  floating  last  night — all 


16  VAIN  FORTUNE 

these  things  were  hers.  So  the  words  "  will  " 
and  "  facts,"  and  "  ignorance  of  them  "  jarred 
on  her  clutching  little  dream,  and  she  turned 
her  eyes — they  wore  an  anxious  look — towards 
Mr.  Grandly,  and  said  with  an  authoritative 
air:  "Yes,  let  us  go  into  the  drawing-room; 
I  want  to  hear  what  Mr.  Grandly  has  to  say 
about —  Let  us  go  into  the  drawing-room  at 
once." 

Julia  sat  down  on  the  chair  nearest  to  her. 
She  stood  at  the  window,  waiting  impatiently 
for  Mr.  Grandly  to  begin.  He  laid  his  hat  on 
the  parquet,  wiped  his  forehead  with  his  hand- 
kerchief, and  drew  an  arm-chair  forward. 
"  Mr.  Burnett,  as  you  know,  made  a  will  some 
years  ago,  in  favor  of  his  cousin  and  adopted 
daughter,  Miss  Emily  Watson.  In  that  will 
he  left  his  entire  fortune  to  her,  Ashwood  Park 
and  all  his  invested  money.  No  other  person 
was  mentioned  in  that  will,  except  Miss 
Watson.  It  was  I  who  drew  up  this  will. 
I  remember  discussing  its  provisions  with 
Mr.  Burnett,  and  advising  him  to  leave  some- 
thing, even  if  it  were  only  a  few  hundred 
pounds,  to  his  nephew,  Hubert  Price.  But 
Mr.  Burnett  was  always  a  very  headstrong 
man;  he  had  quarrelled  with  this  young  man, 


VAIN  FORTUNE  17 

as  he  said,  irreparably,  and  could  not  be  in- 
duced to  leave  him  even  a  hundred  pounds. 
I  thought  this  was  harsh,  and  as  Mr.  Burnett's 
friend  I  told  him  so — I  have  always  been  op- 
posed to  extreme  measures — but  he  was  not 
to  be  gainsaid.  So  the  matter  remained  for 
many  years;  never  did  Mr.  Burnett  mention 
his  nephew's  name.  I  thought  he  had  forgot- 
ten the  young  man's  existence,  when,  sudden- 
ly, without  warning,  Mr.  Burnett  came  into 
my  office  and  told  me  that  he  intended  to  alter 
his  will,  leaving  all  his  property  to  his  nephew, 
Hubert  Price.  You  know  what  old  friends 
we  were,  and  presuming  on  our  friendship,  I 
told  him  what  I  thought  of  his  project  of  dis- 
inheritance, for  it  amounted  to  that.  Well, 
suffice  it  to  say,  we  very  nearly  quarrelled 
over  the  matter.  I  refused  to  draw  up  the 
will,  so  iniquitous  did  it  seem  to  me.  He 
said  :  '  Very  well,  Grandly,  I'll  go  elsewhere.' 
Then  I  remembered  that  if  I  allowed  him  to 
go  elsewhere  I  should  lose  all  hold  over  him, 
and  I  consented  to  draw  up  the  will." 

Emily  listened,  a  vague  expression  of  pain 

in  her  pathetic  eyes.     Then  this  house,  whose 

corridors  she  knew  and  loved  so  well,  this 

room  where  she  was  sitting,  was  not  hers,  and 

2 


18  VAIN  FORTUNE 

a  strange  man  would  come  soon  and  drive  her 
away  ! 

"  And  he  has  left  Ashwood  to  Mr.  Price,  is 
not  that  his  name? "  she  said,  abruptly. 
"  Yes  ;  he  has  left  Ashwood  to  Mr.  Price." 
"  And  when  did  he  make  this  new  will  ?  " 
"I  think  it  is  just  about  a  month  ago." 
Emily  leaned  forward,  and  her  great  'eyes, 
full  of  light  and  sorrow,  were  fixed  in  space? 
her  little  pale  hands  linked,  and  the  great  mass 
of  chestnut  hair  slipping  from  the  comb.    She 
was,  in  truth,  at  that  moment  the  subject  of 
a  striking  picture,  and   she  was    even  more 
impressive  when  she  said,  speaking  slowly  : 
"  Then  that  old  man  was  even  wickeder  than 
I  thought.     Oh,  what  a  lot  I  have  learned  in 
the  last  three  or  four  weeks !   Oh,  what  wicked- 
ness, what    wickedness !  .  .  .     But    go  on," 
she  said,  looking  at  Mr.  Grandly ;   "  tell  me 
all." 

"  I  suppose  there  was  some  very  serious 
reason,  but  on  that  point  Mr.  Burnett  abso- 
lutely refused  to  answer  me.  He  said  his 
reasons  were  his  own,  and  that  he  intended  to 
leave  his  money  to  whom  he  pleased." 

"  There  was — "  Julia  stopped  short,  and 
looked  interrogatively  at  Emily. 


VAIN  FORTUNE  19 

"  Go  on,  Julia,  tell  him ;  we  have  nothing 
to  conceal." 

"  Mr.  Burnett  asked  Emily  to  marry  him  a 
short  time  ago ;  she,  of  course,  refused,  and 
ever  since  he  seemed  more  like " 

"A  madman  than  anything  else,"  broke  in 
Emily.  "  Oh,  for  the  last  month  we  have  led  a 
miserable  life !  It  was  a  happy  release." 

"  Is  it  possible,"  said  Mr.  Grandly,  "  that 
Mr.  Burnett  seriously  contemplated  marriage 
with  Miss  Watson  ?  " 

u  Yes,  and  her  refusal  seemed  to  drive  him 
out  of  his  mind." 

"  I  never  was  more  surprised."  The  placid 
face  of  the  eminently  respectable  solicitor 
lapsed  into  contemplation.  "I  often  tried," 
he  said,  suddenly,  "  to  divine  the  reason  why 
he  changed  his  will.  Disappointed  love  seemed 
the  only  conceivable  reason,  but  I  rejected  it 
as  being  quite  inconceivable.  Well,  it  only 
shows  how  little  we  know  what  is  passing  in 
each  other's  minds." 

"  Then,"  said  Julia,  "  Mr.  Burnett  has  di- 
vided his  fortune,  leaving  Ash  wood  to  Mr. 
Price,  and  all  his  invested  money  to  Emily  ?" 

A  look  of  pain  passed  over  Mr.  Grandly's 
benevolent  face,  and  he  answered :  "  Un- 


20  VAIN  FORTUNE 

fortunately,  he  has  left  everything  to  Mr. 
Price." 

"I'm  glad,"  exclaimed  Emily,  "that  he  has 
left  me  nothing.  Once  he  thought  fit  to  dis- 
inherit me  because  I  would  not  marry  him, 
I  prefer  not  to  have  anything  to  do  with  his 
money." 

Mr.  Grandly  and  Julia  looked  at  each  other  ; 
they  did  not  need  to  speak  ;  each  knew  that 
the  girl  did  not  realize  at  once  the  full  and 
irretrievable  nature  of  this  misfortune.  The 
word  destitute  was  at  present  unrealized,  and 
she  only  thought  that  she  had  been  deprived  of 
what  she  loved  best  in  the  world — Ashwood. 
Mr.  Grandly  glanced  at  her,  and  then  speak- 
ing a  little  more  hurriedly,  said  : 

"  I  was  saying  just  now  that  I  only  con- 
sented to  draw  up  the  will  so  that  I  might  be 
able  at  some  future  time  to  induce  Mr.  Bur- 
nett to  add  a  codicil  to  it.  Later  on  I  spoke 
to  him  again  on  the  subject,  and  he  promised 
to  consider  it,  and  a  few  days  after  he  wrote 
to  me,  saying  that  he  had  decided  to  take  my 
advice  and  add  a  codicil.  Subsequently,  in 
another  letter  he  mentioned  three  hundred  a 
year  as  being  the  sum  he  thought  he  would  be 
in  honor  bound  to  leave  Miss  Watson.  Un- 


VAIN  FORTUNE  21 

fortunately,  he  did  not  live  long  enough  to 
carry  this  intention  into  execution.  But  the 
letters  he  addressed  to  me  on  the  subject  exist, 
and  I  have  every  hope  that  the  heir,  Mr. 
Price,  will  be  glad  to  make  some  provision 
for  his  cousin." 

"  Have  you  any  reason  for  thinking  that 
Mr.  Price  will  do  so?''  said  Julia. 

"  No.  But  it  seems  impossible  for  any 
honorable  man  to  act  otherwise." 

"  He  cannot  bear  enmity  against  Emily,  who 
of  course  knew  nothing  of  his  quarrel  with 
his  uncle.  Do  you  know  anything  about  Mr. 
Price ?  What  is  he?  Where  does  he  live  ?  " 

"  He  is  a  literary  man,  I  believe.  I  have 
heard  that  he  writes  plays ! " 

"Oh,  a  writer  of  plays." 

"  Yes.  I  am  glad  of  it ;  he  may  be  easier  to 
deal  with.  I' dare  say  it  is  a  mistaken  notion, 
but  one  is  apt  to  imagine  that  these  artist  folk 
are  more  generous  with  their  money  than  or- 
dinary mortals." 

"Is  he  married?"  said  Julia,  and  involun- 
tarily she  glanced  toward  Emily. 

Mr.  Grandly,  too,  looked  toward  the  girl, 
and  then  he  said :  "  I  don't  know  if  Mr.  Price 
is  married  ;  I  hope  not" 


22  VAIN  FORTUNE 

"  Why  do  you  hope  so?  "  said  Emily,  sud- 
denly. 

"  Because  if  he  isn't  there  will  only  be  one 
person  to  deal  with.  If. he  had  a  wife,  she 
would  have  a  voice  in  the  matter ;  and  in  such 
circumstances  as  ours  a  man  is  easier  to  deal 
with.  I  earnestly  hope  Mr.  Hubert  Price  is 
not  married,  and  shall  consider  it  a  great  point 
in  our  favor  if  on  returning  to  town  I  find  he 
is  not"  Then  assuming  a  lighter  tone,  for 
the  nervous  strain  of  the  last  ten  minutes  had 
been  intense,  he  said :  "  If  he  is  not  married, 
who  knows — you  may  take  a  fancy  to  him, 
and  he  to  you  ;  then  things  would  be  just  the 
same  as  before — only  better." 

"I  should  not  marry  him — I  hate  him  al- 
ready. I  wonder  how  you  can  think  of  such 
a  thing,  Mr.  Grandly.  You  know  that  he 
must  be  a  very  wicked  man  for  uncle  to  have 
disinherited  him.  I  have  always  heard  that 
—but  I  don't  know  what  I  am  saying."  Tears 
welled  up  into  her  eyes.  "  I  have  not  been 
very  wicked,  and  I  have  been  disinherited.  I 
dare  say  my  cousin  is  not  so  bad  as — but  I  can 
talk  no  more.  ...  I  am  very  miserable,  I 
have  always  been  miserable,  and  I  don't  know 
why ;  I  never  did  harm  to  any  one," 


VAIN  FORTUNE  23 

Soon  after  Mr.  Grandly  bade  the  ladies 
good-by.  Julia  followed  him  to  the  front 
door.  "  You  will  do  all  you  can  to  help  us? 
That  poor  child  is  too  young,  too  inexperi- 
enced, to  realize  what  her  position  ia" 

"I  know,  I  know,"  said  Mr.  Grandly,  ex- 
tending both  hands  to  Julia ;  "  in  the  whole 
course  of  my  experience  I  never  met  with  a 
sadder  case.  But  we  must  not  take  too  sad 
a  view  of  it.  Perhaps  all  will  come  right  in 
the  end.  The  young  man  cannot  refuse  to 
make  good  his  uncle's  intentions.  He  cannot 
see  his  cousin  go  to  the  workhouse.  I  will 
do  the  best  I  can  for  you.  The  moment  I  get 
back  to  London  I'll  set  inquiries  on  foot  and 
find  out  his  address,  and  when  I  have  seen 
him  I'll  write.  Good-by." 

Then,  resolving  that  it  were  better  to  leave 
the  girl  to  herself,  Julia  took  up  her  key- 
basket  and  hurried  away  on  household  busi- 
ness. But  in  the  middle  of  her  many 
occupations  she  would  now  and  then  stop 
short  to  think  what  an  appalling  misfortune ! 
A  bolt  from  the  blue  !  She  had  never  heard 
of  anything  so  cruel  before.  That  poor  girl 
— she  must  go  to  her ;  she  must  not  leave  her 
alone  any  longer.  But  it  would  be  well  to 


24  VAIN  FORTUNE 

avoid  the  subject  as  much  as  possible.  She 
must  think  of  something  to  distract  her 
thoughts.  The  pony -chaise.  It  might  be  the 
last  time  they  had  a  carriage  to  go  out  in. 
But  they  could  not  go  out  driving  on  the  day 
of  the  funeral.  That  evening,  as  they  were 
going  to  bed,  Emily  said,  lifting  her  sweet, 
pathetic  little  face,  looking  all  love  and  gen- 
tleness :  "  Oh,  to  think  of  a  common,  vulgar 
writer  coming  here,  with  a  common,  vulgar 
wife  and  a  horrid  crowd  of  children.  Oh, 
Julia,  doesn't  it  seem  impossible  ?  And  yet  I 
suppose  it  is  true.  I  cannot  bear  to  think  of 
it  I  can  see  the  horrid  children  tramping  up 
and  down  the  stairs,  breaking  the  things  we 
have  known  and  loved  so  long;  and  they  will 
destroy  all  my  flowers,  and  no  one  will  re- 
member to  feed  the  poor  swans.  Dandy,  my 
beloved,  T  shall  be  able  to  take  you  with  ma" 
And  she  caught  up  the  rough-haired  terrier 
and  hugged  him,  kissing  his  dear  old  head. 
"  Dandy  is  mine ;  they  can't  take  him  from 
me,  can  they  ?  But  do  you  think  the  swans 
belong  to  them  or  to  us?  I  suppose  it  would 
be  impossible  to  take  them  with  us  if  we  go 
to  live  in  London.  They  couldn't  live  in  a 
back  yard." 


VAIN  FORTUNE  25 

"  But,  dearest  Emily,  who  are '  they '  ?  You 
don't  know  that  he  is  married — literary  men 
don't  often  marry.  For  all  you  know,  he  is  a 
handsome  young  man,  who  will  fall  madly  in 
love  with  you." 

"  No  one  ever  fell  in  love  with  me  except 
that  horrid  old  man — how  I  hate  him,  how  I 
detest  to  think  of  it !  I  thought  I  should  have 
died  when  he  asked  to  marry  rne.  The  very 
memory  of  it  is  enough  to  make  me  hate  all 
men,  and  prevent  me  from  liking  any  one.  I 
don't  think  I  could  like  him  ;  I  should  always 
see  that  wicked  old  man's  hoary,  wrinkled 
face  in  his." 

"  Oh,  Emily,  I  cannot  think  how  such  ideas 
can  come  into  your  head.  It  is  not  right, 
indeed  it  isn't."  And  this  simple  English- 
woman looked  at  this  sensitive  girl  in  sheer 
wonderment  and  alarm. 

"I  only  say  what  I  think.  I  am  glad  the 
old  man  did  disinherit  me.  I'm  glad  we  are 
leaving  Ashwood;  I  cannot  abide  the  place 
•when  I  think  of  him.  .  .  .  There,  that  is  his 
chair.  I  can  see  him  sitting  in  it  now.  He  is 
grinning  at  us ;  he  is  saying,  '  Ha  !  ha  !  I  have 
made  beggars  of  you  both.'  You  remember 
how  we  used  to  tremble  when  we  met  his  ter- 


26  VAIN  FORTUNE 

rible  old  face  on  the  stairs ;  you  remember 
how  he  used  to  sit  glaring  at  us  all  through 
dinner  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Emily,  I  remember  all  that ;  but  I 
do  not  think  it  natural  that  you  should  forget 
all  the  years  of  kindness:  he  was  very  good 
to  you,  and  loved  you  very  much,  and  if  he 
forgot  himself  at  the  end  of  his  life,  we  must 
remember  the  weaknesses  of  age." 

"  The  hideousness  of  age,"  Emily  replied,  in 
a  low  tone.  The  conversation  paused,  and 
.then  Julia  said : 

"You  are  speaking  wildly,  Emily,  and  will 
live  to  regret  your  words.  Let  us  speak  no 
more  of  Mr.  Burnett.  ...  I  dare  say  you  will 
find  your  cousin  a  charming  young  man.  I 
should  laugh  if  it  were  all  to  end  in  a  mar- 
riage. And  how  glad  I  should  be  to  see  you 
off  on  your  honeymoon,  to  bid  you  good-by." 

"Oh,  Julia,  don't  speak  like  that;  you  will 
never  bid  me  good-by.  You  will  never  leave 
me  —  promise  me  that  —  you  are  my  only 
friend.  Oh,  Julia,  promise  me  that  you  will 
never  leave  me." 

Tears  rose  in  Julia's  eyes,  and  taking  the 
girl  in  her  arms,  she  said :  "  I'll  never  leave 
you,  my  dear  girl,  until  you  yourself  wish  it" 


VAIN  FORTUNE  27 

"  I  wish  it  ?  Oh,  Julia,  you  do  not  know 
me.  I  have  lost  everything,  Julia,  but  I 
mustn't  lose  you.  .  .  .  After  all,  it  doesn't  so 
much  matter,  so  long  as  we  are  not  separated. 
I  don't  care  about  money,  and  we  can  have  a 
nice  little  house  in  London  all  to  ourselves. 
And  if  we  get  too  hard  up,  we'll  both  go  out 
as  daily  governesses.  I  think  I  could  teach 
a  little  music,  to  young  children,  you  know  ; 
you'd  teach  the  older  ones."  Emily  looked 
at  Julia  inquiring!}",  and  going  over  to  the 
piano,  attempted  to  play  her  favorite  polka. 
Julia,  who  had  once  worked  for  her  daily 
bread,  and  earned  it  in  a  sort  of  way  by  giv- 
ing music  lessons,  smiled  sadly  at  the  girl's 
ignorance  of  life. 

"  I  see,"  said  Emily,  who  was  quick  to 
divine  every  shade  of  sentiment  passing  in 
the  minds  of  those  she  loved  ;  "  you  don't 
think  I  could  teach  even  the  little  children." 

"  My  dear  Emily,  I  hope  it  will  never  come 
to  your  having  to  try." 

"I  must  do  something  to  get  a  living,"  she 
replied,  looking  vaguely  and  wistfully  into 
the  fire.  "  How  unfortunate  all  this  is — that 
horrid,  horrid,  old  man.  But  supposing  he  had 
asked  you  to  marry  him — he  wasn't  nice,  but 


28  VAIN  FORTUNE 

you  are  older  than  I,  and  if  you  had  married 
him  you  would  have  become,  in  a  way,  my 
stepmother.  But  what  a  charming  step- 
mother !  Oh,  how  I  should  have  loved  that !  " 

"  Come,  Emily,  it  is  time  to  go  to  bed ;  you 
let  your  imagination  run  away  with  you." 

"  Julia,  you  are  not  cross  because " 

"  No,  dear,  I'm  not  cross.  I'm  only  a  little 
tired.  We  have  talked  too  long." 

Emily's  allusion  to  music -teach  ing  had  re- 
vived in  Julia  all  her  most  painful  memories. 
If  this  man  were  to  cast  them  penniless  out 
of  Ashwood !  Supposing,  supposing  that 
were  to  happen  ?  Starving  days,  pale  and 
haggard,  rose  up  in  her  memory.  What 
should  she  do,  what  should  she  do,  and  with 
that  motherless  girl  dependent  on  her  for  food 
and  clothes  and  shelter?  She  buried  her  face 
in  the  pillow  and  prayed  that  she  might  be 
saved  from  such  a  destiny.  Fear  kept  her 
awake. 

If  this  man — this  unknown  creature — were 
to  refuse  to  help  them,  she  and  Emily  would 
have  to  go  to  London,  and  she  would  have  to 
support  Emily  as  best  she  might  The  insom- 
nia rendered  things  strangely  distinct,  and  she 
saw  down  the  gaunt  perspective  of  a  long  life 


VAIN  FORTUNE  29 

of  poverty  this  poor,  delicate  orphan  girl,  with 
no  one  but  "her  to  look  to  for  support  She 
would  hold  to  her  and  fight  for  her  with  all 
her  strength,  but  would  she  not  fall  van- 
quished in  the  fight;  and  then,  and  then? 
The  same  thoughts,  questions,  and  fears 
turned  in  her  head  like  a  wheel,  and  it  was 
not  until  dawn  had  begun  to  whiten  the  win- 
dow-panes that  she  fell  asleep. 

A  few  days  after,  the  post  brought  a  letter 
for  Julia.  After  glancing  hastily  down  the 
page  she  said:  "  This  is  a  letter  from  Mr. 
Grandly,  and  it  is  good  news.  Oh,  what  a 
relief !  .  .  ." 

"Read  it" 


"  '  DEAR  MRS.  BENTLBT  : 

"  '  Immediately  I  arrived  in  London  I  set  to  work  to 
find  out  Mr.  Price's  address.  It  was  the  easiest  matter  in 
the  world,  for  he  has  a  play  now  running  at  one  of  the 
theatres.  So  I  directed  my  letter  to  the  theatre  and  next 
morning  I  had  a  visit  from  him.  After  explaining  to 
him  the  resources  of  the  brilliant  fortune  he  had  come 
into,  I  told  him  of  his  uncle's  intention  to  add  a  codicil 
to  his  will  leaving  Miss  Watson  three  hundred  a  year  ; 
I  told  him  that  this  last  will  had  left  her  entirely  un- 
provided for.  He  said,  at  once,  that  he  fully  agreed 
with  me,  and  that  he  would  consider  what  was  the  most 
honorable  course  for  him  to  take  in  regard  to  his  cousin. 


80  VAIN  FORTUNE 

This  is  exactly  what  he  said,  but  his  manner  was  such 
that  before  leaving  he  left  no  doubt  in  my  mind  what- 
ever that  he  will  act  very  generously  indeed.  I  should 
not  be  surprised  if  he  settled  even  more  than  the  pro- 
posed three  hundred  a  year  on  Miss  Watson.  He  is  a 
very  quiet,  thoughtful  young  man  of  about  two  or  three 
and  thirty.  He  looks  poor,  and  I  fancy  he  has  lived 
through  very  hard  times.  He  wears  an  air  of  sadness 
and  disappointment  which  makes  him  attractive,  and 
his  manners  are  gentle  and  refined.  I  tell  you  these 
things,  for  I  know  they  will  interest  you.  I  have  not 
been  able  to  find  out  if  he  is  married,  but  I  am  sorry  to 
say  that  his  play  has  not  succeeded.  I  should  have 
found  out  more,  but  he  was  not  in  my  office  above  ten 
minutes  ;  he  had  to  hurry  away  to  keep  an  appointment 
at  the  theatre,  for,  as  he  explained,  it  was  to  be  decided 
that  very  day  if  the  play  was  to  be  taken  out  of  the  bills 
at  the  end  of  the  week.  He  promised  to  call  again,  and 
our  interview  is  fixed  for  eleven  o'clock  the  day  after 
to-morrow.  In  the  meantime  take  heart,  for  I  think  I 
am  justified  in  telling  you  I  feel  quite  sanguine  as  to 
the  result.'" 


"  Well,"  said  Julia,  laying  down  the  letter, 
"I  don't  think  that  anything  could  be  more 
satisfactory,  and  just  fancy  dear  old  Mr. 
Grandly  being  able  to  describe  a  young  man 
as  well  as  that." 

"  He  doesn't  say  if  he  is  short  or  tall,  or 
dark  or  fair." 

"  No,  he  doesn't     I  think  he  might  have 


VAIN  FORTUNE  31 

told  us  something  about  his  personal  appear- 
ance, but  it  is  a  great  relief  to  hear  that  he 
is  not  the  vulgar  Bohemian  we  have  always 
understood  him  to  be.  Mr.  Grandly  says  his 
manners  are  refined ;  you  might  take  a  fancy 
to  him  after  all." 

"  But  you  don't  know  that  he  isn't  married. 
I  suppose  Mr.  Grandly  wasn't  able  to  find  that 
out.  I  should  like  to  know — but  not  because 
I  want  to  marry  him  or  any  one  else ;  only  I 
don't  like  the  idea  of  a  great,  vulgar  woman, 
and  a  pack  of  children  scampering  about  the 
place  when  we  go." 

"  Do  you  dislike  children  so  much,  then, 
Emily?" 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  ever  thought  about 
them  ;  but  I'm  sure  I  shouldn't  like  his  chil- 
dren. I  dreamt  of  him  last  night.  Do  you 
believe  in  dreams  ?  " 

"What  did  you  dream?" 

"  I  cannot  remember,  but  I  woke  up  crying, 
feeling  more  unhappy  than  I  ever  felt  in  my 
life  before.  It  is  curious  that  I  should  dream 
of  him  last  night  and  that  you  should  receive 
that  letter  this  morning,  isn't  it?  " 

"  I  don't  see  anything  strange  in  it  Noth- 
ing more  natural  than  that  you  should  dream 


32  VAIN  FORTUNE 

about  him,  and  it  was  certain  that  I  should 
receive  a  letter  from  Mr.  Grandly ;  he  promised 
to  write  to  me  in  a  few  days." 

"  Then  you  believe  what  is  in  that  letter — 
I  don't.  Something  tells  me  that  he  will  not 
act  kindly,  but  I  don't  know  how." 

"  I'm  quite  sure  you  are  wrong,  Emily.  Mr. 
Grandly  would  never  have  written  this  letter 
unless  he  knew  for  certain  that  Mr.  Price 
would  do  all  or  more  than  he  promised." 

"  I  can't  see  from  the  letter  that  he  has 
promised  anything.  .  .  .  Even  if  he  does 
give  me  three  hundred  a  year,  I  shall  have 
to  leave  Ashwood." 

"  My  dear  Emily,  I'm  cross  with  you ;  of 
course,  if  you  will  insist  on  always  looking  at 
the  melancholy  side.  .  .  .  Now  I'm  going ; 
I've  to  see  after  the  housekeeping.  Are  you 
going  into  the  garden  ?  " 

"  Yes,  presently." 

Emily  did  not  seem  to  know  what  she  was 
going  to  do.  She  looked  out  the  window,  she 
lingered  in  the  corridor ;  finally  she  wandered 
into  the  library.  The  quaint,  old-fashioned  room 
recalled  her  childhood  to  her.  It  was  there 
she  used  to  learn  her  lessons.  Here  was  the 
mahogany  table,  at  which  she  used  to  sit  with 


VAIN  FORTUNE  33 

her  governess,  learning  to  read  and  write  ;  and 
there,  far  away  at  the  other  end  of  the  long 
room,  was  the  round  table,  where  lay  the  old 
illustrated  editions  of  "Gulliver's  Travels" 
and  "  The  Arabian  Nights,"  which  she  used 
to  run  to  whenever  her  governess  left  the 
room.  And  at  the  bottom  of  the  book-case 
there  were  drawers  full  of  strange  papers; 
these  drawers  she  used  in  fear  and  trembling, 
so  mysterious  did  they  seem  to  her.  And 
there  was  the  book-case,  full  of  the  tall  folios, 
behind  which  lay,  in  dark  and  dim  recesses, 
stores  of  books  which  she  used  to  pull  out,  ex- 
pecting at  every  moment  to  come  upon  long- 
forgotten  treasures.  She  smiled  now,  as  she 
recalled  these  childish  imaginings,  and  lifting 
tenderly  the  coarse  drugget,  she  looked  at  the 
great  green  globe  which  her  fingers  used  to 
turn  in  infantile  curiosity.  Then  leaving  the 
library,  she  roamed  through  the  house,  paus- 
ing on  the  first  landing  to  gaze  on  the  picture 
of  the  fine  gentleman  in  a  red  coat,  his  hand 
forever  on  his  sword.  She  remembered  how 
she  used  to  wonder  whom  he  was  going  to  kill, 
and  how  sure  she  used  to  feel  that  at  last  he 
would  grant  his  adversary  his  life.  And  close 
by  was  the  picture  of  the  wind-mill,  set  on  the 


34  VAIN  FORTUNE 

edge  of  the  down,  with  the  shepherd  driving 
sheep  in  the  foreground.  And  her  whole  life 
seemed  drenched  with  tears  at  the  thought  of 
parting  with  these  things.  Every  room  was 
full  of  memories  for  her.  She  was  a  little  girl 
when  she  came  to  live  at  Ashwood,  and  the 
room  at  the  top  of  the  stairs  had  been  her 
nursery.  There  were  the  two  beds ;  both  were 
now  dismantled  and  bare.  It  was  in  the  little 
bed  in  the  corner  that  she  used  to  sleep ;  it 
was  in  the  old  four-poster  that  her  nurse  slept 
And  there  was  the  very  place,  in  front  of  the 
fire,  where  she  used  to  have  her  tea.  The 
table  had  disappeared,  and  the  grate,  how 
rusty  it  was !  In  the  far  corner,  by  the  win- 
dow, there  used  to  be  a  press,  in  which 
nurse  kept  tea  and  sugar.  That  press  had 
been  removed.  The  other  press  was  there 
still,  and  throwing  open  the  doors  she  sur- 
veyed the  shelves.  She  remembered  the  very 
peg  on  which  her  hat  a.nd  jacket  used  to  hang. 
And  the  long  walks  in  the  great  park,  which 
was  to  her,  then,  a  world  of  wonderment! 
She  wandered  about  the  old  corridor,  in 
and  out  of  odd  rooms,  all  associated  with  her 
childhood — quaint,  old  rooms,  many  of  them 
lumber  rooms,  full  of  odd  corners  and  old 


VATN  FORTUNE  35 

cupboards,  the  meaning  of  which  she  used  to 
strive  to  divine.  How  their  silence  and  mys- 
tery used  to  thrill  her  little  soul !  Faded 
rooms  whose  mystery  had  departed,  but  whose 
gloom  was  haunted  with  tenderest  recollec- 
tions. In  one  corner  was  the  reading  chair  in 
which  Mr.  Burnett  used  to  sit.  At  that  time 
she  used  to  sit  on  his  knee,  and  when  the 
chair  gave  way  beneath  their  weight,  he  had 
said  she  was  too  big  a  girl  to  sit  on  his  knee 
any  longer.  The  words  had  seemed  to  her  a 
little  cruel.  She  had  forgotten  the  old  chair, 
but  now  she  remembered  the  very  moment 
when  the  servants  came  to  take  it  away. 
Under  the  window  were  some  fragments  of  a 
china  bowl  which  she  had  broken  when  quite 
a  little  child.  And  there  was  a  hoop-stick 
that  had  fallen,  and  there  was  the  hoop 
which  had  been  taken  down  to  the  black- 
smith's to  be  mended.  He  had  mended  it, 
but  she  did  not  remember  ever  using  it  again. 
And  there  was  an  old  box  of  water-colors, 
with  which  she  used  to  color  all  the  uncol- 
ored  drawings  in  her  picture-books.  Emily 
took  the  hoop-stick,  the  old  doll,  and  the 
broken  box  of  water-colors,  and  packed  them 
away  carefully.  She  would  be  able  to  find 


36  VAIN  FORTUNE 

room  for  them  in  the  little  house  in  London 
where  she  and  Julia  were  going  to  live. 

A  few  days  after,  the  post  brought  letters 
from  Mr.  Grandly,  one  for  Emily  and  one  for 
Julia.  Julia's  letter  ran  as  follows : 

"DEAR  MKS.  BENTLEY: 

"  I  write  by  this  post  to  Miss  Watson,  advising  her 
that  her  cousin,  Mr.  Price,  is  most  anxious  to  make  her 
acquaintance,  and  asking  her  to  send  the  dog-cart  to- 
morrow to  meet  him  at  the  station.  I  must  take  upon 
myself  the  responsibility  for  this  step.  I  have  seen  Mr. 
Price  again,  and  he  has  confirmed  me  in  my  good  opin- 
ion of  him.  He  seems  most  anxious,  not  only  to  do 
everything  right,  but  to  make  matters  as  pleasant  and 
agreeable  as  possible  for  his  cousin.  He  has  written  me 
a  letter  recognizing  Miss  Watson's  claim  upon  him,  and 
constituting  himself  her  trustee.  I  have  not  had  yet 
time  to  prepare  a  deed  of  gift,  but  there  can  be  little 
doubt  that  Miss  Watson's  position  is  now  quite  secure. 
So  far  so  good  ;  but  more  than  ever  does  the  only  clear 
and  satisfactory  way  out  of  this  miserable  business  seem 
to  me  to  be  a  marriage  between  Mr.  Hubert  Price  and 
Miss  Watson.  I  have  already  told  you  that  he  is  a  nice, 
refined  young  man,  of  gentlemanly  bearing,  good  pres- 
ence, and  excellent  speech,  though  a  trifle  shy  and  re- 
served; and,  as  I  have  since  discovered  that  he  is  not 
married,  I  have  taken  upon  myself  the  responsibility  of 
advising  him  to  jump  into  a  train  and  to  go  and  tell  his 
cousin  the  conclusion  he  has  come  to  regarding  the  will 
of  the  late  Mr.  Burnett.  As  I  have  said,  he  is  a  shy 
man,  and  it  was  some  time  before  I  could  induce  him  to 


VAIN  FORTUNE  37 

take  so  decisive  a  step  ;  he  wanted  to  meet  Miss  Watson 
in  my  office,  but  I  succeeded  in  persuading  him.  He 
will  go  down  to  you  to-morrow  by  the  five  o'clock,  and 
I  need  not  impress  upon  you  the  necessity  that  you  should 
use  your  influence  with  Miss  Watson,  and  that  his  re- 
ception should  be  as  cordial  as  circumstances  permit.  I 
have  only  to  add  that  I  see  no  need  that  you  should  show 
this  letter  to  Miss  Watson,  for  the  very  fact  of  knowing 
that  we  desired  to  bring  about  a  marriage  might  preju- 
dice her  against  this  young  man,  whom  she  otherwise 
cannot  fail  to  find  charming. " 

Hearing  some  one  at  her  door,  Julia  put  the 
letter  away.  It  was  Emily. 

"  I've  just  received  a  letter  from  Mr.  Grand- 
ly, saying  that  that  man  is  coming  here  to- 
day, and  that  we  are  to  send  the  dog-cart  for 
him." 

"  Is  not  that  the  very  best  thing  that — 

"  We  cannot  remain  here,  we  must  leave  a 
note  for  him,  or  something  of  that  kind.  I 
wouldn't  remain  here  to  meet  him  for  worlds. 
I  really  couldn't,  Julia." 

"And  why  not,  Emily?" 

"  To  meet  the  man  who  is  coming  to  turn 
me  out  of  Ash  wood  ! " 

"  How  do  you  know  that  he  is  coming  to 
turn  you  out  of  Ash  wood  ?  You  imagine 
these  things.  ...  Do  you  suppose  that  Mr. 


38  VAIN  FORTUNE 

Grandly  would  send  him  down  here  if  he  did 
not  know  what  his  intentions  were  ?  " 

"  But  we  shall  have  to  leave  Ashwood." 

"Very  likely,  but  not  in  the  way  you  imag- 
ine. Kemember,  Mr.  Price  is  your  cousin ;  you 
may  like  him  very  much.  Let's  be  guided  by 
Mr.  Grandly ;  I  have  not  seen  your  letter,  but 
apparently  he  advises  us  to  remain  here  and 
receive  him." 

"  I  don't  think  I  can,  Julia.  I  have  mis- 
givings." 

"  Have  you  been  dreaming  again  ?  " 

"  No ;  I've  not  been  dreaming,  but  I  have 
misgivings." 

"  You  are  a  silly  little  goose,  Emily.  Come 
and  give  me  a  kiss,  and  promise  to  take  my 
advice." 

"  Dearest  Julia,  you  do  love  me,  don't  you  ? 
Promise  me  that  we  shall  not  be  separated, 
and  then  I  don't  mind." 

"  Yes,  dear,  I  promise  you  that,  and  you 
will  promise  me  to  try  to  like  your  cousin  ?  " 

"  I'll  try,  Julia,  but  I'm  awfully  frightened, 
and — I  don't  think  I  could  like  him,  no  matter 
what  he  was  like.  I  feel  a  sort  of  hatred  in 
my  heart  Don't  you  know  what  I  mean?" 
And  the  girl  looked  questioningly  into  her 
friend's  eyes. 


CHAPTEE  III. 

DURING  breakfast  the  conversation  lan- 
guished. The  matter  had  been  decided,  and 
both  women  were  full  of  vague  and  eager 
thoughts  concerning  the  young  man  who  was 
coming  to  see  them.  Julia  wondered  what 
was  passing  in  Emily's  mind.  Emily  did  not 
know  herself.  There  was  a  great  deal  there, 
but  it  was  more  sensation  than  opinion.  Her 
mind  was  divided  by  passionate  hate  and 
timid  curiosity.  She  often  thought  of  throw- 
ing herself  into  Julia's  arms  and  begging  of 
her  to  take  her  away  to  London  to  some  quiet 
home — she  did  not  care  how  humble  it  was  ; 
somewhere  where  they  might  live  alone  and 
be  nappy.  But  something  prevented  her 
from  doing  this  even  when  she  desired  it  most 
The  face  of  a  young  man  fell  occasionally  like 
a  shadow  on  her  mind,  and  then  it  did  not 
seem  to  her  that  she  could  do  otherwise  than 
submit.  Julia,  too,  was  agitated.  Emily 
might  at  any  moment  declare  that  she  could 
not  meet  her  cousin,  and  shut  herself  up  in 


40  VAIN  FORTUNE 

her  room  until  he  left  the  house.  If  she  acted 
so,  Heaven  only  knew  what  would  become  of 
her,  and  in  an  access  of  motherly  solicitude, 
all  her  heart  went  out  to  the  motherless  child. 
But  as  the  hours  went  by  she  began  to  feel 
easier  in  mind,  and  the  possibility  of  a  mar- 
riage strengthened  until  it  seemed  already 
an  accomplished  fact.  Emily  as  a  bride !  The 
vision  dazzled  her.  Even  if  so  desirable  an 
event  did  not  take  place,  there  was  still  three 
hundred  a  year  and  reconciliation  with  her 
wealthy  cousin.  Then  she,  too,  was  anxious 
to  see  this  young  man  :  it  would  be  a  pleasant 
change,  and  would  help  them  to  forget  the 
terrible  month  they  had  passed  through.  A 
new  era  was  about  to  begin,  and  the  rose  of 
its  dawn  seemed  to  presage  a  day  of  happiness 
and  marriage.  But  without  looking  so  far 
ahead  as  the  altar,  the  present  was  tempting 
enough  ;  nothing  now  could  prevent  Mr.  Price 
from  coming,  and  though  Emily  was  not  inter- 
ested in  the  fact  that  he  was  a  dramatic 
writer — one  who  had  had  plays  performed  in 
the  London  theatres — Julia  thought  a  good 
deal  about  it  and  indulged  in  a  good  deal  of 
wonderment  regarding  the  young  man,  and 
what  his  conversation  would  be  like. 


VAIN  FORTUNE  41 

Towards  the  end  of  the  afternoon  Julia 
came  out  to  meet  Emily,  who  was  examining 
her  flowers  on  the  pleasant  lawn  in  front  of 
the  house.  A  few  brief  remarks  were  made, 
and  the  women  walked  in  silence.  Suddenly 
the  dog-cart  came  round  the  turn  and  passed 
down  the  drive. 

"Oh!"  said  Emily.  "Why,  there's  John 
going  to  the  station  to  fetch  him.  He'll  be 
here  in  half  an  hour ! " 

"  Well,  dear,  what  of  that  ?  The  five-o'clock 
express  is  the  train  most  people  come  down 

by." 

"  Yes  ;  but  he  is  not  coming  as  a  guest :  we 
are  his  guests.  Do  you  think  he'll  ask  us  to 
leave  at  once — I  mean  to-morrow,  at  the  end 
of  the  week  ?  " 

"  You  are  going  to  make  the  acquaintance 
of  your  cousin,  who,  by  all  accounts,  is  a  very 
nice  young  man.  Why  not  be  satisfied  to  let 
things  go  on  as  they  are  going?  They  are 
going  on  very  well ;  there  is  no  use  in  trying 
to  guess  what  is  going  to  happen." 

The  conversation  paused;  the  women 
walked  once  up  the  greensward,  and  then,  as 
they  were  about  to  turn,  Emily  said: 

"  I  think  we  ought  to  receive  him  in  the 


42  VAIN  FORTUNE 

drawing-room.  Let's  come  in.  We  shall 
have  to  get  him  some  tea,  and  then  there  will 
be  dinner,  and  then  after  dinner  in  the  draw- 
ing-room. I'm  sure  I  shall  break  down  before 
the  end  of  the  evening.  .  .  .  Then  he's  not 
going  away  after  dinner;  he'll  be  here  all 
night.  .  .  .  I  sha'n'tbe  able  to  close  my  eyes 
with  fright" 

"  If  you  go  on  like  that,  my  dear  Emily, 
you  will  end  by  upsetting  me,  and  I  shall  be 
as  nervous  as  yourself."  A  few  moments 
passed,  and  then  Emily  said : 

"  I  think  you  ought  to  be  at  the  piano.  I 
will  sit  in  this  arm-chair  and  pretend  to  be 
reading.  That  will  look  quite  natural,  just 
as  if  we  weren't  expecting  him." 

Julia  did  not  speak  at  once.  She  seemed 
to  be  considering  her  words.  Then  she  said  : 
"  I  should  like  you  to  receive  your  cousin 
just  as  if  Mr.  Burnett  had  not  altered  his  will 
and  the  young  man  was  coming  to  pay  you  a 
visit.  I'm  sure  that  is  how  he'd  like  you  to 
receive  him." 

The  conversation  fell,  and  the  silence  grew 
so  irritating  that  to  break  it  Julia  went  to  the 
piano.  Emily  went  to  the  window.  Julia's 
fingers  ran  over  the  keys,  and  soon  after  Emily 


VAIN  FORTUNE  43 

cried :  "  Oh,  Julia,  here  he  is — quick,  look  ! 
What  do  you  think  of  him  ?  Isn't  he  horrid  ? 
...  He  has  a  red  beard." 

"  He  is  not  the  least  horrid,  and  I  doubt 
very  much  if  you  think  so ;  ...  you  are  only 
trying  to  excite  yourself.  I  do  hope  you  will 
control  your  feelings,  whatever  they  are,  and 
let  this  interview  pass  off  quietly.  .  .  .  Above 
all,  no  pathetic  looks;  a  little  cordiality,  a 
little  naturalness —  There  was  no  time 
to  say  more.  The  door  was  thrown  open, 
and  the  servant  announced  Mr.  Hubert  Price. 

The  first  impression  was  of  a  good-looking 
young  man,  tall,  thin,  somewhat  angular, 
dressed  in  a  gray  tweed  suit.  The  bottom 
button  of  the  jacket  was  buttoned,  and  the 
garment  creased  about  the  hips.  The  collar 
was  low  and  loose,  and  the  tying  of  the  loose 
scarf — a  pale  red  spun-silk  scarf  —  suggested 
some  high-class  handicraftsman  with  social- 
istic aspirations.  The  boots  were  clumsy.  His 
embarrassment  expressed  itself  by  a  move- 
ment of  the  crimson  lips,  seen  through  the 
red-blond  mustache.  The  beard  was  short, 
pointed,  and  on  the  cheeks  it  was  cut  close  to 
the  skin.  The  face  was  shallow,  and  singu- 
larly uniform  in  color,  a  sort  of  rich  pallor 


44  VATN  FORTUNE 

verging  to  whiteness  about  the  temples.  The 
nose  was  long,  thin,  well-formed.  The  eyes, 
the  distinctive  feature,  were  pale  blue — shy, 
retiring  eyes,  which  seemed  to  warn  you  that 
something  had  been  left  unsaid.  The  hair 
was  pale-brown,  and  though  not  long,  it  waved 
in  high  confusion  above  the  clear,  broad  fore- 
head. But,  notwithstanding  an  expression  of 
earnestness  and  strength,  thought  seemed  to 
float  there  without  precision,  without  depth  ; 
and  life,  too,  seemed  to  exist  there  only  on  the 
surface.  He  now  stood,  as  if  hesitating 
whether  he  should  enter  the  room,  in  a  pictur- 
esque pose,  the  railway-rug,  which  he  had 
forgotten  to  leave  outside,  on  his  arm  ;  then, 
seeing  that  Emily  was  coming  towards  him, 
he  stretched  a  long  arm  from  a  square  shoul- 
der and  took  her  hand.  He  was  picturesquely 
awkward.  Julia  could  not  but  think  of  hon- 
esty and  sincerity  when  the  long,  soft  fingers 
gripped  her  hand. 

"I'm  Miss  Watson,  and  this  my  friend 
Mrs.  Bentley."  Hubert  sought  for  words,  but 
he  found  none,  and  the  sjlence  was  again 
broken  by  Emily's  plaintive  voice  :  "  Won't 
you  sit  down  ;  won't  you  lay  your  rug  aside  ?  " 

"Thank  you,  I—       Hubert  sought  for  a 


VAIN  FORTUNE  45 

convenient  chair.  "  I  had  forgotten  — 
Then  he  drew  off  his  gloves.  As  he  did  so  he 
glanced  shyly  from  the  tiny  figure  in  the  black 
dress  to  the  tall  woman  who  stood  at  some 
little  distance,  her  pale  hair  sparkling  in  the 
setting  light 

Emily  sat,  her  pathetic  eyes  fixed  on  her 
cousin,  saying  nothing.  Julia  had  to  come 
to  the  rescue. 

"  I  hope  you  have  had  a  pleasant  journey, 
Mr.  Price,"  she  said.  "  The  country  is  look- 
ing beautiful  just  now.  Do  you  know  this 
part  of  the  country  ?  "  Julia's  words  were 
welcome,  and  Hubert  replied  eagerly : 

"  No,  I  do  not  know  the  country  at  all  well. 
I  have  been  very  little  out  of  London  for 
some  years,  but  I  hope  now  to  see  more  of  the 
country.  This  is  a  beautiful  place." 

At  that  moment  he  met  Julia's  eyes,  and, 
feeling  that  he  was  touching  on  delicate 
ground,  he  stopped  speaking.  When  he 
turned  his  head,  he  met  Emily's  great  sad 
eyes,  which  seem  to  absorb  the  entire  face, 
fixed  upon  him.  They  expressed  such  depth 
of  pathetic  appeal  that  he  trembled  with  ap- 
prehension, and  the  instinct  in  him  was  to 
beg  for  pardon.  But  it  became  suddenly 


46  VAIN  FORTUNE 

necessary  to  say  something,  and,  speaking  at 
random,  his  head  full  of  whirling  words,  he 
said: 

"  Of  course  nothing  could  be  more  sad  than 
my  poor  uncle's  death — so  unexpected.  .  .  . 
Having  lived  so  long  together,  you  must 
have —  Then  it  was  Hubert's  turn  to 
look  appeal ingly  at  Miss  Watson ;  but  her 
great  eyes  seemed  to  say,  "  Go  on,  go  on  ; 
heap  cruelty  on  cruelty  !  "  Then  he  plunged 
desperately,  hoping  to  retrieve  his  mistakes. 
"  He  died  about  a  month  ago.  Mr.  Grandly 
told  me  I  should  still  find  you  here,  so  I 
thought— 

The  intensity  of  his  emotion  perhaps  caused 
Hubert  to  accentuate  his  words,  so  that  they 
conveyed  a  meaning  different  from  that  which 
he  intended.  Certainly  his  hesitations  were 
capable  of  misinterpretation,  and  Emily  said, 
her  voice  trembling : 

"  Of  course  we  know  we  have  no  right  here, 
we  are  intruding  ;  but  we  are  making  prepara- 
tions. .  .  .  I  dare  say  that  to-morrow  we  shall 
be  able  to — 

"Oh,  I  beg  pardon,  Miss  Watson;  let  me 
assure  you.  ...  I  am  sorry  if 

Taking  a  little   handkerchief  out  of  her 


VAIN  FORTUNE  47 

black  dress,  Emily  covered  her  face  in  her 
thin,  tiny  hands.  She  sobbed  aloud,  and  ran 
out  of  the  room.  Hubert  turned  to  Julia,  his 
face  full  of  consternation. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  but  she  did  not  give  me 
time  to  speak.  Will  you  go  and  fetch  her, 
Mrs.  Bentley?  I  want  to  tell  her  I  hope 
she  will  remain  at  Ashwood  as  long  as  she 
likes.  ...  I  believe  she  thinks  that  I  came 
down  here  to  turn  her  out.  It  is  really  quite 
awful  that  she  should  think  such  a  thing." 

"  She  is  an  exceedingly  sensitive  girl,  and 
is  now  a  little  overwrought.  The  events  of  the 
last  month  have  proved  too  much  for  her." 

"  Mr.  Grandly  informed  me  that  it  was  Mr. 
Burnett's  intention  to  add  a  codicil  to  his 
will,  leaving  Miss  Watson  three  hundred  a 
year.  This  money  I  am  prepared  to  give 
her,  and  I'm  quite  sure  she  is  welcome  to 
stay  here  as  long  as  she  pleases.  Indeed,  she 
will  do  me  a  great  favor  by  remaining.  Please 
go  and  tell  her.  I  cannot  bear  to  see  a  girl 
cry ;  to  hear  her  sob  like  that  is  quite 
terrible." 

"  You  will  be  able  to  tell  her  yourself  dur- 
ing the  course  of  the  evening.  I  think  it  will 
come  better  from  you." 


48  VAIN  FORTUNE 

11  After  what  has  happened,  it  will  be  very 
difficult  for  me  to  meet  her  until  she  is  in- 
formed that  she  is  mistaken." 

They  were  standing  quite  close  together. 
Suddenly  they  both  seemed  to  understand 
each  other  better,  and,  playing  with  the  brace- 
let on  her  arm,  she  said : 

"  You  do  not  know  Emily ;  she  is  strangely 
sensitive.  But  I  will  go  and  try  to  persuade 
her  to  return.  .  .  .  Although  only  distantly 
related,  you  are  cousins,  after  all,  are  you 
not?" 

"Yes,  we  are  cousins,  but  the  relationship 
is  remote.  Tell  her  everything;  beg  of  her 
to  come  down-stairs." 

Hubert  imagined  Emily's  little  black  figure 
thrown  upon  her  bed,  sobbing  convulsively. 
He  was  very  much  agitated,  and  looked  about 
the  room,  at  first  hardly  seeing  it.  At  last  its 
novelty  drew  his  thoughts  from  his  cousin's 
tears,  and  he  wondered  what  was  the  history 
of  the  house.  "The  old  man,"  he  thought, 
"  bought  it  all,  furniture  and  ancestors,  from 
some  ruined  landowner,  and  attempted  very 
few  alterations — that's  clear."  Then  he  re- 
proached himself.  "  How  could  I  have  been 
so  stupid?  I  did  not  know  what  I  was  say- 


VAIN  FORTUNE  49 

ing.  I  was  so  horribly  nervous.  Those 
strange  eyes  of  hers  quite  upset  me.  I  do 
hope  Mrs.  Bentley  will  tell  her  that  I  wish 
to  act  generously,  that  I  am  prepared  to  do 
everything  in  my  power  to  make  her  happy. 
Poor  little  thing!  She  looks  as  if  she  had 
never  been  happy."  Again  the  room  drew 
Hubert's  thoughts  away  from  his  cousin.  It 
was  still  lit  with  the  faint  perfumed  glow  of 
the  sunset.  The  paint  of  the  old  decorations 
was  cracked  and  faded.  A  man  in  black 
velvet  fixed  his  eyes  upon  him,  and  the  tall 
lady  in  blue  satin  had  no  doubt  played 
there  in  short  clothes.  He  walked  up  and 
down,  he  turned  over  the  music  on  the  piano, 
and,  hearing  a  step,  looked  round.  It  was 
only  the  servant  coming  to  tell  him  that  his 
room  was  ready. 

He  dressed  for  dinner,  hoping  to  find  the 
two  ladies  in  the  drawing-room,  and  it  was  a 
disappointment  to  find  only  Mrs.  Bentley 
there. 

"  I  have  told  Emily  everything  you  said. 
She  is  very  grateful,  and  begs  of  me  to  thank 
you  for  your  kind  intentions.  But  I  am 
afraid  you  must  excuse  her  absence  from 
dinner.  I  really  don't  think  she  is  in  a  fit 
4 


50  VAIN  FORTUNE 

state  to  come  down ;  she  couldn't  possibly 
take  part  in  the  conversation." 

"  But  why  ?  I  hope  she  isn't  ill.  Had  we 
better  send  for  the  doctor  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no ;  she'll  be  all  right  in  the  morning. 
She  has  been  crying.  She  suffers  from  de- 
pression of  spirits.  She  is,  I  assure  you, 
all  right,"  said  Julia,  replying  to  Hubert's 
alarmed  and  question  ing  face.  "I  assure  you 
there  is  no  need  for  you  to  reproach  yourself- 
Dinner  is  ready."  She  took  his  arm,  and 
they  went  into  the  dining-room. 

No  further  mention  was  made  of  Mr.  Bur- 
nett, of  money  matters,  or  of  the  young  lady 
up-stairs ;  and  with  considerable  tact  Julia  in- 
troduced the  subject  of  literature,  alluding 
gracefully  to  Hubert's  position  as  a  dramatist. 

"Your  play,  'Divorce,'  is  now  running  at 
the  Queen's  Theatre?  " 

"  No :  I  am  sorry  to  say  it  was  taken  out  of 
the  bills  last  Saturday.  Saturday  night  was 
the  last  performance." 

"  That  was  not  a  long  run.  And  the  papers 
spoke  so  favorably  of  it" 

"  It  is  a  play  that  only  appeals  to  the  few." 
And,  encouraged  by  Mrs.  Bentley's  manner, 
Hubert  told  her  how  happy  endings  and  comic 


VAIN  FORTUNE  51 

love  scenes  were  essential  to  secure  a  popular 
success. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  will  think  me  very  stupid, 
but  I  do  not  quite  understand." 

In  a  quiet,  unobtrusive  way  Hubert  was  a 
graceful  talker,  and  he  knew  how  to  adapt  his 
theme,  and  bring  it  within  the  circle  of  the 
sympathies  of  his  listeners.  There  was  some 
similarity  of  temperament  between  himself  and 
Mrs.  Bentley  ;  they  were  both  quiet,  fair,  med- 
itative Saxons.  She  lent  her  whole  mind  to 
the  conversation,  interested  in  the  account 
that  the  young  man  gave  of  his  dramatic 
aspirations. 

From  the  dining-room  window  looking  over 
the  park  the  long  road  wound  through  the 
vaporous  country.  A  town  stood  in  the  mid- 
dle distance,  its  color  blotted  out,  and  its 
smoke  hardly  distinguishable.  In  the  room 
a  yellow  dress  turned  gray,  and  the  gold  of  a 
bracelet  grew  darker,  and  the  pink  of  delicate 
finger-nails  was  no  longer  visible.  But  the 
pensive  dusk  of  the  dining-room,  which  black- 
ened the  claret  in  the  decanters,  leaving  only 
the  faintest  ruby  glow  in  the  glass  which 
Hubert  raised  to  his  lips,  suited  the  tenor  of 
the  conversation,  which  had  wandered  from 


52  VAIN  FORTUNE 

the  dramatic  to  the  social  side  of  the  ques- 
tion. What  did  he  think  of  divorce  ?  She 
sighed,  and  he  wondered  what  her  story  might 
be. 

They  passed  out  of  the  dining-room,  and 
stood  on  the  gravel,  watching  the  night  gath- 
ering in  the  open  country.  In  the  light  of 
the  moon,  which  had  just  risen  above  the 
woods,  the  white  road  grew  whiter,  the  town 
was  faintly  seen  in  the  tide  of  blue  vapor, 
which  here  and  there  allowed  a  field  to  ap- 
pear. In  the  foreground  a  great  silver  fir, 
spiky  and  solitary,  rose  up  in  the  blue  night. 
Beyond  it  was  a  corner  of  the  ornamental 
bridge.  The  island  and  its  shadow  were  one 
black  mass  rising  from  the  park  up  to  the 
level  of  the  moon,  which,  a  little  to  the  right, 
between  the  town  and  the  island,  lay  reflected 
in  a  narrow  strip  of  water.  Farther  away 
some  reeds  were  visible  in  the  illusive  light, 
and  the  meditative  chatter  of  dozing  ducks 
stirred  the  silence  which  wrapped  the  country 
like  a  cloak. 

Hubert  and  Julia  stood  looking  at  the  land- 
scape. The  fragrance  of  his  cigar,  the  pres- 
ence of  the  woman,  the  tenderness  of  the  hour, 
combined  to  make  him  strangely  happy ;  his 


VAIN  FORTUNE  53 

past  life  seemed  to  him  like  a  harsh,  cruel 
pain  that  had  suddenly  ceased.  More  than 
he  had  ever  desired  seemed  to  be  fulfilled ; 
the  reality  exceeded  the  dream.  What  greater 
happiness  than  to  live  here !  His  thoughts 
paused  ;  he  had  forgotten  the  girl  up-stairs. 
She  was  not  happy  ;  but  he  would  make  her 
happy — of  that  he  was  quite  certain.  At  that 
moment  Julia  said: 

"  I  hope  you  like  your  home.  Is  not  the 
prospect  a  lovely  one  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  but  I  was  thinking  at  that  moment 
of  Emily.  I  suppose  I  must  accustom  my- 
self to  call  her  by  her  Christian  name.  She 
is  my  cousin." 

They  went  into  the  drawing-room.  Julia 
asked  him  if  he  liked  music,  and  she  went  to 
the  piano  and  sang  some  Scotch  songs  very 
sweetly.  Then  she  took  a  book  from  the  table 
and  bade  him  good-night.  She  was  sure  that 
he  would  excuse  her.  She  must  go  and  see 
after  Ernily. 

When  the  door  closed,  the  woman  who  had 
just  left  him  seemed  like  some  one  he  had 
seen  in  a  dream  ;  and  still  more  shadowy  and 
illusive  did  the  girl  seem — that  pale  and 
plaintive  beauty,  looking  like  a  pastel,  who 


54  VAIN  FORTUNE 

had  so  troubled  him  with  her  enigmatic  eyes ! 
And  the  lodging-house  that  he  had  left  only 
a  few  hours  ago !  and  Miss  Massey !  What 
did  it  all  mean  ?  Had  there  ever  been  such  a 
romance?  And  yet  the  facts  were  simple 
enough.  When  all  hope  seemed  dead,  when 
he  stood  on  the  brink  of  suicide,  his  uncle, 
who  had  adopted  a  distant  member  of  the 
family — one  of  the  Watsons — had  suddenly 
taken  it  into  his  head  to  leave  his  money  to 
the  nearest  of  kin.  The  most  commonplace 
story  in  the  world  when  looked  at  from  one 
side,  and  yet  how  romantic  when  looked  at 
from  another!  The  point  of  view  is  every- 
thing. 

He  had  written  a  play — a  play  that  the  most 
competent  critics  had  praised.  It  had  failed, 
and  failed  twice ;  but  did  that  prove  anything  ? 
Was  it  the  fault  of  circumstances  that  he  had 
not  been  able  to  finish  the  "  The  Gipsy  "?  or 
was  it  that  the  slight  vein  of  genius  that  had 
been  in  him  once  had  been  exhausted  ?  He 
remembered  the  article  in  The  Modern  Review, 
and  was  frightened  to  think  that  the  critic 
might  have  divined  the  truth.  Once  it  had 
seemed  impossible  to  finish  that  play  ;  but  for- 
tune had  come  to  his  aid,  accident  had  made 


VAIN  FORTUNE  56 

him  master  of  his  destiny  ;  he  could  spend 
three  years,  five  years  if  he  liked,  on  "  The 
Gipsy."  But  why  think  of  the  play  at  all  ? 
What  did  it  matter  even  if  he  never  wrote  it  ? 
There  were  many  things  to  do  in  life  besides 
writing  plays.  There  was  life !  His  life  was 
henceforth  his  own,  and  he  could  live  it  as 
he  pleased.  What  should  he  do  with  it? 
To  whom  should  he  give  it?  Should  he 
keep  it  all  for  himself  and  his  art  ?  It  were 
useless  to  make  plans.  All  he  knew  for 
certain  was  that  henceforth  he  was  master  of 
his  own  life,  and  could  dispense  it  as  he 
pleased. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

WHEN  a  child,  Hubert  had  been  shy,  medi- 
tative, illusive — his  mother's  favorite,  and  the 
scorn  of  his  elder  brothers,  two  rough  boys, 
addicted  in  early  youth  to  robbing  orchards, 
and  later  on  to  gambling  and  drinking.  The 
elder,  after  having  broken  his  father's  heart 
with  debts  and  disgraceful  living,  had  gone 
out  to  the  Cape.  News  of  his  death  came 
to  the  Rectory  soon  after ;  but  James's  death 
did  not  turn  Henry  from  his  evil  courses,  and 
one  day  his  father  and  mother  had  to  go  to 
London  on  his  account,  and  they  brought  him 
back  a  hopeless  invalid.  Hubert  was  twelve 
years  of  age  when  he  followed  his  brother  to 
the  grave. 

It  was  at  his  brother's  funeral  that  Hubert 
met  for  the  first  time  his  uncle,  Mr.  Burnett. 
Mr.  Burnett  had  spent  the  greater  part  of  his 
life  in  New  Zealand,  where  he  had  made  a 
large  fortune  by  sheep  farming  and  invest- 
ments in  land.  He  had  seemed  to  be  greatly 
taken  with  his  nephew,  and  it  had  been  under- 


VAIN  FORTUNE  57 

stood  that  he  would  leave  him  the  greater  part, 
if  not  the  whole,  of  his  fortune.  But  Mr. 
Burnett  had  come  under  the  influence  of  some 
poor  relations,  some  distant  cousins,  the  Wat- 
sons, and  had  eventually  decided  to  adopt 
their  daughter  Emily  and  leave  her  his  for- 
tune. He  did  not  dare  intimate  his  change 
of  mind  to  his  sister;  but  the  news  having 
reached  Mrs.  Price  in  various  rumors,  she 
wrote  to  her  brother  asking  him  to  confirm  or 
deny  these  rumors ;  and  when  he  admitted 
their  truth,  Mrs.  Price  never  spoke  to  him 
again.  She  was  a  determined  woman,  and 
the  remembrance  of  the  wrong  done  to  her 
son  never  left  her. 

While  the  other  children  had  been  a  tor- 
ment and  disgrace,  Hubert  had  been  to  his 
parents  a  consolation  and  a  blessing.  They 
had  feared  that  he  too  might  turn  to  betting 
and  drink,  but  he  had  never  shown  sign  of  low 
tastes.  He  played  no  games,  nor  did  he  care 
for  terriers  or  horses  ;  but  for  books  and  draw- 
ing, and  long  country  walks.  Immediately  on 
hearing  of  his  disinheritance,  he  had  spoken 
at  once  of  entering  a  profession ;  and  for  many 
months  this  was  the  subject  of  consideration 
in  the  rectory.  Hubert  joined  in  these  dis- 


58  VAIN  FORTUNE 

cussions  willingly,  but  he  could  not  bring 
himself  to  accept  the  army  or  the  bar.  It  was 
indeed  only  necessary  to  look  at  him  to  see 
that  neither  soldier's  tunic  nor  lawyer's  wig 
was  intended  for  him ;  and  it  was  nearly 
as  clear  that  those  earnest  eyes,  so  intelligent 
and  yet  so  undetermined  in  their  gaze,  were 
not  those  of  a  doctor. 

But  his  eyes  failed  to  predict  his  future; 
his  hands  told  the  story  of  his  life  distinctly 
enough — those  long,  white  hands,  what  could 
they  mean  but  art  ?  And  very  soon  Hubert 
began  to  draw,  evincing  some  natural  aptitude. 
Then  an  artist  came  into  the  neighborhood, 
the  two  became  friends,  and  went  together  on 
a  long  sketching  tour.  Life  in  the  open  air, 
the  shade  of  the  hedge,  the  glare  of  the  high- 
way, the  meditation  of  the  field,  the  languor 
of  the  riverside,  the  contemplation  of  wooded 
horizons,  was  what  Hubert's  pastoral  nature 
was  most  fitted  to  enjoy ;  and,  for  the  sake  of 
the  life  it  afforded,  he  pursued  the  calling  of 
a  landscape  painter  long  after  he  had  begun 
to  feel  his  desire  turning  in  another  direction. 
When  the  landscape  on  the  canvas  seemed 
hopelessly  inadequate,  he  laid  aside  the  brush 
for  the  pencil,  and  strove  to  interpret  the 


VAIN  FORTUNE  69 

summer  fields  in  verse.  From  verse  he  drift- 
ed into  the  article  and  the  short  story,  and 
from  the  story  into  the  play.  And  it  was  in 
this  last  form  that  he  felt  himself  strongest, 
and  various  were  the  dramas  and  comedies 
that  he  dreamed  from  year's  end  to  year's  end. 

While  he  was  in  the  midst  of  his  period  of 
verse- writing  his  mother  died,  and  in  the 
following  year,  just  as  he  was  working  at  his 
stories,  he  received  a  telegram  calling  him  to 
attend  his  father's  death-bed.  The  old  man 
was  laid  in  the  shadow  of  the  weather-beaten 
village  church,  and  Hubert  gathered  all  his 
belongings  and  bade  farewell  forever  to  the 
Shropshire  rectory.  Sitting  in  the  railway 
carriage,  he  watched  the  long  line  running  on 
to  London — London,  beginning  in  the  fields, 
a  line  of  lamps  stretching  behind  the  sleeping 
cattle,  houses,  then  fields  again,  gardens,  then 
a  bridge,  and  the  street  below  freckled  with 
yellow  lights.  The  train  shook,  springing 
from  rail  to  rail — there  was  the  immense 
Thames,  its  gray  indefinite  perspectives ! 

In  London  Hubert  made  few  friends.  There 
were  some  two  or  three  men  with  whom  he 
was  frequently  seen — quiet  folk  like  himself, 
whose  enjoyment  consisted  in  smoking  a  tran- 


60  VAIN  FORTUNE 

quil  pipe  in  the  evening,  or  going  for  long 
walks  in  the  country.  He  was  one  of  those 
men  whose  indefiniteness  provokes  curiosity, 
and  his  friends  noticed  and  wondered  why  it 
was  that  he  was  so  frequently  the  theme  of 
their  conversation.  His  simple,  unaffected 
manners  were  full  of  suggestion,  and  in  his 
writings  there  was  always  an  indefinable  rain- 
bow-like promise  of  ultimate  achievement 
So,  long  before  he  had  succeeded  in  writing  a 
play,  detached  scenes  and  occasional  verses 
led  his  friends  into  gradual  belief  that  he  was 
one  from  whom  big  things  might  be  expected. 
And  when  the  one-act  play  which  they  had 
all  so  heartily  approved  of  was  produced,  and 
the  newspapers  praised  it,  advising  the  writer 
to  try  again,  the  friends  took  pride  in  this 
public  vindication  of  their  opinion.  After  the 
production  of  his  play,  every  Saturday  even- 
ing some  fifteen  or  twenty  men  used  to  assem- 
ble in  Hubert's  lodgings  to  drink  whiskey, 
smoke  cigars,  and  talk  drama.  Encouraged 
by  his  success,  Hubert  wrote  "  Divorce."  The 
play  was  refused  twice,  and  then  accepted  by 
a  theatrical  speculator,  to  whom  it  seemed  to 
afford  opportunity  for  the  exhibition  of  the 
talents  of  a  lady  he  was  interested  in. 


VAIN  FORTUNE  61 

There  was  merit  in  the  play.  One  section 
of  the  press  spoke  of  "foul  psychology,"  while 
another  said,  "At  last  a  literary  play  can  be 
witnessed  in  London !  " 

The  life  of  the  play  was  brief,  but  in  dying 
it  left  a  legend  behind — a  legend  of  undevel- 
oped talent;  a  legend  of  a  good  play  killed 
by  bad  acting.  And  so  it  was  that  the  pro- 
duction of  "  An  Ebbing  Tide,"  Hubert's  second 
play,  was  a  theatrical  event  of  importance. 
Some  of  the  critics  argued  that  it  contained 
scenes  as  fine  as  any  in  "  Divorce,"  but  it  was 
admitted  on  all  sides  that  the  interest  withered 
in  the  later  acts.  The  next  three  years  Hu- 
bert wasted  in  various  aestheticisms.  He  ex- 
plained the  difference  between  the  romantic 
and  realistic  methods  in  the  reviews;  he 
played  with  a  poetic  drama  to  be  called  "  The 
King  of  the  Beggars,"  and  it  was  not  until  the 
close  of  the  third  year  that  he  settled  down  to 
definite  work.  Then  all  his  energies  were 
concentrated  on  a  new  play — "  The  Gipsy."  A 
young  woman  of  Bohemian  origin  is  suddenly 
taken  with  the  nostalgia  of  the  tent,  and 
leaves  her  husband  and  her  home  to  wander 
with  those  of  her  race.  He  had  read  portions 
of  this  play  to  his  friends,  who  looked  upon 


62  VAIN  FORTUNE 

it  as  his  masterpiece.  His  fortunes  at  this 
time  were  very  low,  and  he  looked  to  this  play 
to  retrieve  them.  A  month's  quiet,  he  thought, 
was  all  that  was  necessary  to  finish  his  play, 
and  he  thought  of  going  into  the  country. 
But  the  country  was  always  so  full  of  pleasure 
for  him,  that  he  doubted  his  power  to  remain 
in-doors  with  the  temptation  of  fields  and  rivers 
before  his  eyes,  and  he  thought  that  to  escape 
from  dunning  creditors  he  need  only  change 
his  address.  So  he  left  Norfolk  Street  for 
the  more  remote  quarter  of  Fitzroy  Street, 
where  he  took  a  couple  of  -rooms  on  the  sec- 
ond floor.  One  of  his  fellow-lodgers,  he  soon 
found,  was  Rose  Massey,  an  actress  engaged 
for  the  performance  of  small  parts  at  the 
Queen's  Theatre.  The  first  time  he  spoke  to 
her  was  on  the  doorstep.  She  had  forgotten 
her  latch-key,  and  he  said,  "Will  you  allow 
me  to  let  you  in?"  She  stepped  aside,  but 
did  not  answer  him.  Hubert  thought  her 
rude,  but  her  strange  eyes  and  absent-minded 
manner  had  piqued  his  curiosity,  and,  having 
nothing  to  do  that  night,  he  went  to  the 
theatre  to  see  her  act  She  was  playing  a 
very  small  part,  and  one  that  was  evidently 
unsuited  to  her — a  part  that  was  in  contra- 


VAIN  FORTUNE  63 

diction  to  her  nature ;  but  there  was  some- 
thing behind  the  outer  envelope  which  led 
him  to  believe  she  had  real  talent,  and  would 
make  a  name  for  herself  when  she  was  given 
a  part  that  would  allow  her  to  reveal  what 
was  in  her. 

In  the  meantime,  Eose  had  been  told  that 
the  gentleman  she  had  snubbed  in  the  pas- 
sage was  Mr.  Hubert  Price,  the  author  of 
"  Divorca" 

"Oh,  it  was  very  silly  of  me,"  she  said  to 
Annie.  "  If  I  had  only  known ! " 

"Lor',  he  don't  mind  ;  he'll  be  glad  enough 
to  speak  to  you  when  you  meets  him  again." 

And  when  they  met  again  on  the  stairs, 
Rose  nodded  familiarly,  and  Hubert  said: 

"  I  went  to  the  Queen's  the  other  night." 

"Did  you  like  the  piece?" 

"I  did  not  care  about  the  piece  ;  but  when 
you  get  a  wild,  passionate  part  to  play,  you'll 
make  a  hit.  The  sentimental  parts  they  give 
you  don't  suit  you." 

A  sudden  light  came  into  the  languid  face, 
"  Yes,  I  shall  do  something  if  I  can  get  a  part 
like  that." 

Hubert  told  her  that  he  was  writing  a  play 
containing  just  such  a  part 


64  VAIN  FORTUNE 

Her  eyes  brightened  again.  ''  Will  you 
read  me  the  play  ?  "  she  said,  fixing  her  dark, 
dreamy  eyes  on  him. 

"  I  shall  be  very  glad.  .  .  .  Do  you  think 
it  won't  bore  you?"  And  his  wistful  gray 
eyes  were  full  of  interrogation. 

"No,  I'm  sure  it  won't." 

And  a  few  days  after  she  sent  Annie  with 
a  note,  reminding  him  of  his  promise  to  read 
her  what  he  had  written.  As  she  had  only  a 
bedroom,  the  reading  had  to  take  place  in  his 
sitting-room.  He  read  her  the  first  and  second 
acts.  She  was  all  enthusiasm,  and  begged 
hard  to  be  allowed  to  study  the  part — just  to 
see  what  she  could  do  with  it— just  to  let 
him  see  that  he  was  not  mistaken  in  her.  Her 
interest  in  his  work  captivated  him,  and  he 
couldn't  refuse  to  lend  her  the  manuscript. 


CHAPTER  V. 

ROSE  often  came  to  see  Hubert  in  his 
rooms.  Her  manner  was  disappointing,  and  he 
thought  he  must  be  mistaken  in  his  first  judg- 
ment of  her  talents.  But  one  afternoon  she 
gave  him  a  recitation  of  the  sleep-walking 
scene  in  "Macbeth."  It  was  strange  to  see  this 
little,  dark-complexioned,  dark-eyed  girl,  the 
merest  handful  of  flesh  and  bone,  divest  her- 
self at  will  of  her  personality,  and  assume  the 
tragic  horror  of  Lady  Macbeth,  or  the  passion- 
ate rapture  of  Juliet  detaining  her  husband- 
lover  on  the  balcony  of  her  chamber.  Hubert 
watched  in  wonderment  this  girl,  so  weak 
and  languid  in  her  own  nature,  awaking  only 
to  life  when  she  assumed  the  personality  of 
another.  There  she  lay,  her  wispy  form 
stretched  in  his  arm-chair,  her  great  dark  eyes 
fixed,  her  mind  at  rest,  sunk  in  some  inscru- 
table dream.  Her  thin  hand  lay  on  the  arm  of 
the  chair:  when  she  woke  from  her  day- 
dream she  burst  into  irresponsible  laughter, 
or  questioned  him  with  petulant  curiosity. 
5 


66  VAIN  FORTUNE 

He  looked  again :  her  dark  curling  hair  hung 
on  her  swarthy  neck,  and  she  was  somewhat 
untidily  dressed  in  blue  linen. 

''Were  you  ever  in  love?"  she  said  sud- 
denly. "  I  don't  suppose  you  could  be ;  you 
are  too  occupied  with  your  play.  I  don't 
know,  though ;  you  might  be  in  love,  but  I 
don't  know  that  many  women  would  be  in  love 
with  you.  .  .  .  You  are  too  good  a  man,  and 
women  don't  like  good  men." 

Hubert  laughed,  and  without  a  trace  of 
offended  vanity  in  his  voice  he  said :  "  I  don't 
profess  to  be  much  of  a  lady-killer." 

"  You  don't  know  what  I  mean,"  she  said, 
looking  at  him  fixedly,  a  maze  of  half-childish, 
half-artistic  curiosity  in  her  handsome  eyes. 

Perplexed  in  his  shy,  straightforward  na- 
ture, Hubert  inquired  if  she  took  sugar  in  her 
tea.  She  said  she  did  ;  stretched  her  feet  to 
the  fire,  and  lapsed  into  dream.  She  was  one 
of  the  enigmas  of  Stage-land.  She  supported 
herself,  and  went  about  by  herself,  looking  a 
poor,  lost  little  thing.  She  spoke  with  con- 
siderable freedom  of  language  on  all  subjects, 
but  no  one  had  been  able  to  fix  a  lover  upon 
her. 

"  What  a  part  Lady  Hay  ward  is!     But  tell 


VAIN  FORTUNE  67 

me — I  don't  quite  catch  your  meaning  in  the 
second  act.  Is  this  it  ?  "  And  starting  to  her 
feet,  she  became  in  a  moment  another  being. 
With  a  gesture,  a  look,  an  intonation,  she 
was  the  woman  of  the  play — a  woman  taken 
by  an  instinct,  long  submerged,  but  which  has 
floated  to  the  surface,  and  is  beginning  to 
command  her  actions.  In  another  moment 
she  had  slipped  back  into  her  weary,  lym- 
phatic nature,  at  once  prematurely  old  and 
extravagantly  childish.  She  could  not  talk  of 
indifferent  things ;  and  having  asked  some 
strange  questions,  and  laughed  loudly,  she 
wished  Hubert  "  Good-afternoon"  in  her  cu- 
rious, irresponsible  fashion,  taking  her  leave 
abruptly. 

The  next  two  days  Hubert  devoted  entirely 
to  his  play.  There  were  things  in  it  which  he 
knew  were  good,  but  it  was  incomplete.  Mon- 
tague Ford  would  not  produce  it  in  its  present 
form.  He  must  put  his  shoulder  to  the  wheel 
and  get  it  right ;  one  more  push,  that  was  all 
that  was  wanted.  And  he  could  be  heard 
walking  to  and  fro,  up  and  down,  along  and 
across  his  tiny  sitting-room,  stopping  sudden- 
ly to  take  a  note  of  an  idea  that  had  occurred 
to  him. 


68  VAIN  FORTUNE 

One  day  he  went  to  Hampstead  Heath.  A 
long  walk,  he  thought,  would  clear  his  mind, 
and  he  returned  home  thinking  of  his  play. 
The  sunset  still  glittered  in  the  skies ;  the  bare 
trees  were  beautifully  distinct  on  the  blue 
background  of  the  suburban  street,  and  at  the 
end  of  the  long  perspective  a  'bus  and  a  han- 
som could  be  seen  coming  towards  him.  As 
they  grew  larger,  his  thoughts  defined  them- 
selves, and  the  distressing  problem  of  his 
fourth  act  seemed  to  solve  itself.  That  very 
evening  he  would  sketch  out  a  new  dramatic 
movement,  around  which  all  the  other  move- 
ments of  the  act  would  cluster.  But  at  that 
moment  he  thought  of  his  money.  He  had  not 
counted  it  for  a  long  while,  and  quite  lately 
he  had  paid  several  bills.  It  must  be  sinking 
very  low  indeed.  So,  with  a  fluttering  heart, 
he  ran  up-stairs  and,  taking  out  the  roll  of 
paper  in  which  he  kept  his  little  hoard,  he 
emptied  it  out  and  proceeded  to  count  it  He 
had  a  little  over  six  pounds,  and  it  would 
take  him  at  least  six  weeks,  maybe  a  couple 
of  months,  to  finish  his  play  !  He  must  clear- 
ly reduce  his  expenditure.  He  must,  first  of 
all,  give  up  his  sitting-room  ;  that  was  a  luxury 
he  could  no  longer  afford.  Mrs.  Wilson  would 


VAIN  FORTUNE  69 

let  him  have  the  bedroom  for  ten  shillings  a 
week,  and  he  would  have  to  ask  her  to  let 
him  have  a  little  table  whereon  he  could 
write.  Breakfast,  whether  he  had  it  at  home 
or  in  the  coffee-house,  would  cost  him  at  least 
fourpence.  He  thought  he  would  be  able  to 
obtain  a  fairly  good  dinner  in  one  of  the  little 
Italian  restaurants  for  ninepence.  His  tea 
would  cost  the  same  as  his  breakfast.  To 
these  sums  he  must  add  twopence  for  tobacco 
and  a  penny  for  an  evening  paper — impossible 
to  do  without  tobacco,  and  he  must  know  what 
was  going  on  in  the  world.  He  could,  there- 
fore, live  for  one  shilling  and  eightpence  a 
day — eleven  shillings  a  week — to  which  he 
would  have  to  add  ten  shillings  a  week  for 
rent ;  altogether  twenty-one  shillings  a  week. 
He  really  did  not  see  how  he  could  do  it 
cheaper.  Four  times  twenty-one  are  eighty- 
four  ;  eighty-four  shillings  for  a  month  of  life, 
and  he  had  a  hundred  and  twenty-five — forty- 
one  shillings  for  incidental  expenses. 

Next  morning  he  asked  the  landlady  to  let 
him  have  a  cup  of  tea  and  some  bread  and 
butter,  and  he  ate  as  much  bread  as  he  could, 
to  save  himself  from  being  hungry  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  day.  He  began  work  immediately, 


70  VAIN  FORTUNE 

and  continued  until  seven,  and  feeling  then 
somewhat  light-headed,  but  satisfied  with  him- 
self, went  to  the  nearest  Italian  restaurant 
The  food  was  better  than  he  had  expected ; 
but  he  spent  twopence  more  than  he  had  in- 
tended, so,  to  accustom  himself  to  a  life  of  strict 
measure  and  discipline,  he  determined  to  fore- 
go his  tea  that  evening.  And  so  he  lived  and 
worked  until  the  end  of  the  week. 

But  the  situation  he  had  counted  on  to  com- 
plete his  fourth  act  had  proved  almost  imprac- 
ticable in  the  working  out ;  he  labored  on,  how- 
ever, and  at  the  end  of  the  tenth  day  at  least  one 
scene  satisfied  him.  He  read  it  over  slowly, 
carefully,  thought  about  it,  decided  that  it  was 
excellent,  and  lay  down  on  his  bed  to  con- 
sider it.  At  that  moment  it  struck  him  that 
he  had  better  calculate  how  much  he  had 
spent  in  the  last  ten  days.  He  had  spent 
thirty  shillings,  and  at  that  rate  his  money 
would  not  hold  out.  He  must  reduce  his 
expenditure ;  but  how  ?  Impossible  to  find  a 
room  where  he  could  live  more  cheaply  than 
in  the  one  he  had  got,  and  it  is  not  easy  to 
dine  in  London  on  less  than  ninepence.  Only 
the  poor  can  live  cheaply.  He  pressed  his 
hands  to  his  face.  His  bead  seemed  like  split- 


VAIN  FORTUNE  71 

ting,  and  his  monetary  difficulty,  united  with 
his  literary  difficulties,  produced  a  momentary 
insanity.  Work  that  morning  was  impossible, 
so  he  went  out  to  study  the  eating-houses  of 
the  neighborhood.  He  must  find  one  where  he 
could  dine  for  sixpence.  Or  he  might  buy  a 
pound  of  cooked  beef  and  take  it  home  with 
him  in  a  paper  bag ;  but  that  would  mean  an 
almost  intolerable  imprisonment  in  his  little 
room.  He  could  go  to  a  public-house  and 
dine  off  a  sausage  and  potato.  But  at  that 
moment  his  attention  was  caught  by  black 
letters  on  a  dun,  yellowish  ground  :  "  Lock- 
hard's  Cocoa  Rooms."  Not  having  break- 
fasted, he  decided  to  have  a  cup  of  cocoa  and 
a  roll. 

But  notwithstanding  all  his  economies,  he 
found  himself  at  last  obliged  to  write  to  Ford 
for  an  advance  of  money.  But  Ford  replied 
that  he  would  advance  money  only  on  the 
delivery  of  the  completed  manuscript.  And 
the  whole  of  one  night,  in  a  room  hardly  eight 
feet  long,  sitting  on  his  bed,  he  strove  to  com- 
plete the  fourth  and  fifth  acts.  But  under  the 
pressure  of  such  necessity  ideas  died  within 
him.  And  all  through  the  night,  and  even 
when  the  little  window,  curtained  with  a  bit 


72  VAIN  FORTUNE 

of  muslin  hardly  bigger  than  a  pocket-hand- 
kerchief, had  grown  white  with  dawn,  he 
sat  gazing  at  the  sheet  of  paper,  his  brain 
on  fire,  unable  to  think.  Laying  his  pen 
down  in  despair,  he  thought  of  the  thousands 
who  would  come  to  his  aid  if  they  only 
knew — if  they  only  knew  !  And  soon  after 
he  heard  life  beginning  again  in  the  street. 
He  felt  that  his  brain  was  giving  way,  that  if 
he  did  not  find  change,  whatever  it  was,  he 
must  surely  run  raving  mad.  He  had  had 
enough  of  England,  and  would  leave  it  for 
America,  Australia,  anywhere.  He  wanted 
change.  The  present  was  unendurable.  How 
would  he  get  to  America  ?  Perhaps  a  clerk- 
ship on  board  one  of  the  great  steamships 
might  be  obtained. 

The  human  animal  in  extreme  misery  be- 
comes self-reliant,  and  Hubert  hardly  thought 
of  making  application  to  his  uncle.  The  last 
time  he  had  applied  for  help  his  letter  had 
remained  unanswered,  and  he  now  felt  that  he 
must  make  his  own  living  or  die.  And,  quite 
indifferent  as  to  what  might  befall  him,  he 
walked  next  day  to  the  Victoria  Docks.  He 
did  not  know  where  or  how  to  apply  for 
work,  and  he  tired  himself  in  fruitless  en- 


VAIN  FORTUNE  73 

deavor.  At  last  he  felt  he  could  strive  with 
fate  no  longer,  and  wandered  mile  after  mile, 
amused  and  forgetful  of  his  own  misery  in  the 
spectacle  of  the  river — the  rose  sky,  the  long 
perspectives,  the  houses  and  warehouses  show- 
ing in  fine  outline,  and  then  the  wonderful 
blue  night  gathering  in  the  forest  of  masts 
and  rigging.  He  was  admirably  patient 
There  was  no  fretfulness  in  his  soul,  nor  did 
he  rail  against  the  world's  injustice,  but  took 
his  misfortunes  with  sweet  gentleness. 

He  slept  in  a  public-house,  and  next  day 
resumed  his  idle  search  for  employment.  The 
weather  was  mild  and  beautiful;  his  wants 
were  simple — a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  roll,  a 
couple  of  sausages — and  the  day  passed  in  a 
sort  of  morose  and  passionless  contemplation. 
He  thought  of  everything  and  nothing,  least  of 
all  of  how  he  should  find  money  for  the  mor- 
row. When  the  day  came,  and  the  penny  to 
buy  a  cup  of  coffee  was  wanting,  he  quite 
naturally,  without  giving  it  a  second  thought, 
engaged  himself  as  a  laborer,  and  worked  all 
day  carrying  sacks  of  grain  out  of  a  vessel's 
hold.  For  a  large  part  of  his  nature  was 
patient  and  simple,  docile  as  an  animal's. 
There  was  in  him  so  much  that  was  rudimen- 


74  VAIN  FORTUNE 

tary,  that  in  accepting  this  burden  of  physical 
toil  he  was  acting  not  in  contradiction  to,  but 
in  full  and  perfect  harmony  with,  his  true 
nature. 

But  at  the  end  of  a  week  his  health  began 
to  give  way,  and,  like  a  man  after  a  violent 
debauch,  he  thought  of  returning  to  a  more 
normal  existence.  He  had  left  the  manuscript 
of  his  unfortunate  play  in  the  North.  Had 
they  destroyed  it?  The  involuntary  fear  of 
the  writer  for  his  child  made  him  smile. 
What  did  it  matter?  Clearly  the  first  thing 
to  do  would  be  to  write  to  the  editor  of  The 
Cosmopolitan,  and  ask  if  he  could  find  him 
some  employment,  something  certain ;  writing 
occasional  articles  for  newspapers, — that  he 
couldn't  do. 

Hubert  had  saved  twelve  shillings.  He 
would  therefore  be  able  to  pay  his  landlady : 
he  smiled — one  of  his  landladies !  The  earlier 
debt  was  now  hopelessly  out  of  his  reach,  and 
seemed  to  represent  a  social  plane  from  which 
he  had  forever  fallen.  If  he  had  succeeded 
in  getting  that  play  right,  what  a  difference 
it  would  have  made !  He  would  have  been 
able  to  do  a  number  of  things  he  had  never 
done,  things  which  he  had  always  desired  to 


VAIN  FORTUNE  75 

do.  He  had  desired  above  all  to  travel — to 
see  France  and  Italy ;  to  linger,  to  muse  in 
the  shadows  of  the  world's  past;  and  after 
this  he  had  desired  marriage,  an  English  wife, 
an  English  home,  beautiful  children,  leisure, 
the  society  of  friends.  A  successful  play 
would  have  given  him  all  these  things,  and 
now  his  dream  must  remain  forever  unrealized 
by  him.  He  had  sunk  out  of  sight  and  hear- 
ing of  such  lifa 

Eose  was  another  ;  she  might  sink  as  he  had 
sunk ;  she  might  never  find  the  opportunity 
of  realizing  her  desire.  How  well  she  would 
have  played  that  part !  He  knew  what  was 
in  her.  And  now  !  What  did  his  failure  to 
write  that  play  condemn  him  to?  Heaven 
only  knows,  he  did  not  wish  to  think.  Strange, 
was  it  not  strange?  .  .  .  A  man  of  genius — 
many  believed  him  a  genius — and  yet  he  was 
incapable  of  earning  his  daily  bread  otherwise 
than  by  doing  the  work  of  a  navvj7.  Even 
that  he  could  not  do  well ;  society  had  softened 
his  muscles  and  effeminized  his  constitution. 
Indeed,  he  did  not  know  what  life  fate  had 
willed  him  for.  He  seemed  to  be  out  of  place 
everywhere.  His  best  chance  was  to  try  to 
obtain  a  clerkship.  The  editor  of  The  Cosmo- 


76  VAIN  FORTUNE 

politan  might  be  able  to  do  that  for  him  ;  if 
he  could  not,  far  better  it  would  be  to  leave  a 
world  in  which  he  was  out  of  place,  and  through 
no  fault  of  his  own — that  was  the  hard  part 
of  it.  Hard  part!  Nonsense!  What  does 
Fate  know  of  our  little  rights  or  wrongs — or 
care?  Her  intentions  are  inscrutable;  she 
watches  us  come  and  go,  and  gives  no  sign. 
Prayers  are  vain.  The  good  man  is  punished, 
and  the  wicked  is  sent  on  his  way  rejoicing. 

In  such  mournful  thought,  his  clothes 
stained  and  torn,  with  all  the  traces  of  a 
week's  toil  in  the  docks  upon  them,  Hubert 
made  his  way  around  St.  Paul's  and  across 
Holborn.  As  he  was  about  to  cross  Oxford 
Street  he  heard  some  one  accost  him  : 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Price,  is  that  you  ?  Where  have 
you  been  all  this  time?" 

She  seemed  so  strange,  so  small,  and  so 
much  alone  in  the  great  thoroughfare,  that 
Hubert  forgot  all  his  own  troubles  in  his  in- 
terest in  this  little  mite. 

"  Where  have  you  been  hiding  yourself  ? 
It  is  lucky  I  met  you.  Don't  you  know  that 
Ford  has  decided  to  revive  '  Divorce '  ?  " 

"  You  don't  mean  it  ?  " 

"Yes;   Ford  said    the   last  acts  of  'The 


VAIN  FORTUNE  77 

Gipsy  '  were  not  satisfactorily  worked  out, 
and  as  there  was  something  wrong  with  Ham- 
ilton Brown's  piece,  he  has  decided  to  re- 
vive 'Divorce.'  He  says  it  never  was  prop- 
erly played.  .  .  .  He  thinks  he'll  make  a  hit 
in  the  husband's  part,  and  I  dare  say  he  will. 
But  I  have  been  unfortunate  again  ;  I  wanted 
the  part  of  the  adventuress.  I  really  could 
play  it  I  don't  look  it,  I  know.  ...  I  have 
no  weight,  but  I  could  play  it,  for  all  that. 
The  public  mightn't  see  me  in  it  at  first,  but 
in  five  minutes  they  would." 

"  And  what  part  has  he  cast  you  for — the 
young  girl  ?  " 

u  Of  course  ;  there's  no  other  part.  He  says 
I  look  it ;  but  what's  the  good  of  looking  it 
when  you  don't  feel  it  ?  If  he  had  cast  me 
for  Mrs.  Barrington,  I  should  have  had  just 
the  five  minutes  in  the  second  act  that  I  have 
been  waiting  for  so  long,  and  I  should  have 
just  wiped  Miss  Osborne  out,  acted  her  off  the 
stage.  ...  I  know  I  should  ;  you  needn't 
believe  it  if  you  don't  like,  but  I  know  I 
should." 

Hubert  wondered  how  any  one  could  feel  so 
sure  of  herself,  and  then  he  said,  "  Yes,  I  think 
you  could  do  just  what  you  say.  .  .  .  How 


78  VAIN  FORTUNE 

do  you  think  Miss  Osborne  will  play  the 
part?'' 

"  She'll  be  correct  enough ;  she'll  miss 
nothing,  and  yet  somehow  she'll  miss  the 
whole  thing.  But  you  must  go  at  once  to 
Ford.  He  was  saying  only  this  morning  that 
if  you  didn't  turn  up  soon,  he'd  have  to  give 
up  the  idea." 

"  I  can't  go  and  see  him  to-night.  You  see 
what  a  state  I'm  in." 

"  You're  rather  dusty ;  where  have  you 
been?  What  have  you  been  doing?  " 

"I've  been  down  at  the  dock.  ...  I 
thought  of  going  to  America." 

"  Well,  we'll  talk  about  that  another  time. 
It  doesn't  matter  if  you  are  a  bit  dusty  and 
worn-out-looking.  Now  that  he's  going  to 
revive  your  play,  he'll  let  you  have  some 
money.  You  might  get  a  new  hat,  though. 
I  don't  know  how  much  they  cost,  but  I've 
five  shillings  ;  can  you  get  one  for  that  ?  " 

Hubert  thanked  her. 

" But  you  are  not  offended?  " 

"  Offended,  my  dear  Rose !  I  shall  be 
able  to  manage.  I'll  get  a  brush  up  some- 
where." 

"  That's  all  right.     Now  I'm  going  to  jump 


VAIN  FORTUNE  79 

into  that  'bus."  And  she  signed  with  her  para- 
sol to  the  conductor.  "  Mind  you  see  Ford 
to-night,"  she  cried  ;  and  a  moment  after  he 
saw  a  small  space  of  blue  back  seated  against 
one  of  the  windows. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

To  avoid  commiseration  of  heartless  friends 
and  the  triumphant  glances  of  literary  ene- 
mies, Hubert  passed  through  the  door  leading 
on  to  the  stage.  Scene-shifters  were  brutal- 
ly pushing  away  what  remained  of  his  play  : 
and  the  presence  of  Hamilton  Brown,  the 
dramatic  author,  talking  to  Ford  was  at  that 
moment  particularly  disagreeable.  Catching 
sight  of  Hubert,  Brown  ran  to  him,  shook  him 
by  the  hand,  and  murmured  some  discreet 
congratulations.  Brown's  insincerity  was 
sufficiently  transparent;  but  men  in  Hubert's 
position  catch  at  straws,  and  he  soon  began  to 
believe  that  the  attitude  of  the  public  toward 
his  play  was  not  so  unfavorable  as  he  had 
imagined. 

He  tried  to  summon  up  a  smile  for  the  stage- 
door  keeper,  who,  he  feared,  had  heard  that 
the  piece  had  failed,  and  then  the  moment 
they  got  outside  he  begged  Rose  to' tell  him 
the  exact  truth.  She  assured  him  that  Ford 
had  said  that  he  had  alwavs  counted  on  a 


VAIN  FORTUNE  81 

certain  amount  of  opposition ;  but  that  he  be- 
lieved that  the  general  public,  being  more  free 
of  prejudice  and  less  sophisticated,  would  be 
impressed  by  the  simple  humanity  of  the  play. 
The  conversation  paused,  and  at  the  end  of  an 
irritating  silence  he  said  :  "You  were  excellent, 
as  good  as  any  one  could  be  in  a  part  that  did 
not  suit  them.  Ah,  if  he  had  cast  you  for  the 
adventuress,  how  you  would  have  played 
it!  .  .  ." 

"  I'm  so  glad  you  are  pleased.  I  hope  my 
notices  will  be  good.  Do  you  think  they 
will?" 

"Yes,  your  notices  will  be  all  right,"  he 
answered,  with  a  sigh. 

"  And  your  notices  will  be  all  right  too.  No 
one  can  say  what  is  going  to  succeed.  There 
was  a  call  after  each  of  the  last  three  acts. 
...  I  don't  see  how  a  piece  could  go 
better.  It  is  the  suspense.  ..." 

"  Ah,  yes,  the  suspense !  " 

They  lingered  on  the  landing,  and  Hubert 
said:  "Won't  you  come  in  for  a  moment?" 
She  followed  him  into  the  room.  His  calm 
face,  usually  a  perfect  picture  of  repose  and 
self-possession,  betrayed  his  emotion  by  a 
certain  blankness  in  the  eyes,  certain  contrac- 
6 


82  VAIN  FORTUNE 

tions  in  the  skin  of  the  forehead.  "I'm 
afraid,"  he  said,  "there's  DO  hope." 

"  Oh,  you  mustn't  say  that ! "  she  replied. 
''I  think  it  went  very  well  indeed.  ...  1 
know  I  did  nothing  with  the  young  girl.  I 
oughtn't  to  have  undertaken  the  part'' 

"  You  were  excellent  If  we  only  get  some 
good  notices.  If  we  don't,  I  shall  never  get 
another  play  of  mine  acted."  He  looked  at 
her  imploringly,  thirsting  for  a  woman's  sym- 
pathy. But  the  little  girl  was  thinking  of 
certain  effects  which  she  would  have  made, 
and  which  the  actress  who  had  played  the 
adventuress  had  failed  to  make. 

"I  watched  her  all  the  time,"  she  said, 
"following  even7  line,  saying  all  the  time, '  Oh 
yes,  that's  all  very  nice  and  very  proper,  my 
young  woman ;  but  it's  not  it;  no,  not  at  all 
—not  within  a  hundred  miles  of  it'  I  don't 
think  she  ever  really  touched  the  part — do 
you  ?  "  Hubert  did  not  answer,  and  a  quiver 
of  distraction  ran  through  the  muscles  of  her 
face. 

"  Why  don't  you  answer  me?  " 

"  I  can't  answer  you,"  he  said  abruptly. 
Then  remembering,  he  added:  "Forgive  me; 
I  can  think  of  nothing  now."  He  hid  his  face 


VAIN  FORTUNE  83 

in  his  hands,  and  sobbed  twice — two  heavy, 
choking  sobs,  pregnant  with  the  weight  of 
anguish  lying  on  his  heart 

Seeing  how  much  he  suffered,  she  laid  her 
hand  on  his  shoulder.  "  I  am  very  sorry  ;  I 
wish  I  could  help  you.  I  know  how  it  tears 
the  heart  when  one  cannot  get  out  what  one 
has  in  one's  brain." 

Her  artistic  appreciation  of  his  suffering 
only  jarred  him  the  more.  What  he  longed 
for  was  some  kind,  simple-hearted  woman 
who  would  say :  "Never  mind,  dear  ;  the  play 
was  perfectly  right,  only  they  did  not  under- 
stand it ;  I  love  you  better  than  ever."  But 
Eose  could  not  give  him  the  sympathy  he 
wanted  ;  and  to  be  alone  was  almost  a  relief. 
He  dared  not  go  to  bed ;  he  sat  looking  into 
space.  As  the  roar  of  London  hushed,  the 
hissing  of  the  gas  grew  louder,  and  still 
Hubert  sat  thinking,  the  same  thoughts  bat- 
tling in  his  brain.  He  looked  into  the  future, 
but  could  see  nothing  but  suicide.  His  uncle  ? 
He  had  applied  to  him  before  for  help  ;  there 
was  no  hope  there.  Then  he  tramped  up  and 
down,  maddened  by  the  infernal  hissing  of 
the  gas;  and  then  threw  himself  into  his 
arm-chair.  And  so  a  terrible  night  wore 


84  VAIN  FORTUNE 

away ;  and  it  was  not  until  long  after  the 
early  carts  had  begun  to  rattle  in  the  streets 
that  exhaustion  brought  an  end  to  his  suffer- 
ings, and  he  rolled  into  bed. 

He  slept  for  several  hours — a  heavy,  dream- 
less sleep — from  which  he  was  at  last  startled 
by  a  loud  knocking  at  the  door. 

"What  will  ye  'ave  to  eat?  Eggs  and 
bacon  ?  " 

"No,  no!" 

"Well,  then,  'ave  a  chop?" 

"No,  no!" 

"  Ye  must  'ave  something." 

"A  cup  of  tea,  a  slice  of  toast.  I'm  not 
hungry." 

"  Well,  ye  are  worse  than  a  young  lady  for 
a  happetite.  Miss  Massey  'as  sent  you  down 
these  'ere  papers." 

The  servant-girl  laid  the  papers  on  the  bed, 
and  Hubert  lay  back  on  his  pillow,  so  that  he 
might  collect  his  thoughts.  Stretching  forth 
his  hands,  he  selected  the  inevitable  paper. 

"  For  those  who  do  not  believe  that  our 
English  home  life  is  composed  mainly,  if  not 
entirely,  of  lying,  drunkenness,  and  conjugal 
infidelity,  and  its  sequel,  divorce,  yester  even- 
ing at  the  Queen's  Theatre  must  have  been  a 


VAIN  FORTUNE  85 

sad  and  dismal  experience.  That  men  and 
women  who  have  vowed  to  love  each  other  do 
sometimes  prove  false  to  their  troth  no  reason- 
able man  will  deny.  With  the  divorce  court 
before  our  eyes,  even  the  most  enthusiastic 
believer  in  the  natural  goodness  and  ultimate 
perfectibility  of  human  nature  must  admit 
that  men  and  women  are  frail.  But  drunk- 
enness and  infidelity  are  happily  not  charac- 
teristic of  our  English  homes.  Then  why, 
we  ask,  should  a  dramatist  select  such  a 
theme,  and  by  every  artifice  of  dialogue  force 
into  prominence  all  that  is  mean  and  painful 
in  an  unfortunate  woman's  life?  Always  the 
same  relentless  method  ;  the  cold,  passionless 
curiosity  of  the  vivisector;  the  scalpel  is 
placed  under  the  nerve,  and  we  are  called 
upon  to  watch  the  quivering  flesh.  Never 
the  kind  word,  the  tears,  the  effusion,  which 
is  man's  highest  prerogative,  and  which  sep- 
arates him  from  the  brute  and  signifies  the 
immortal  end  for  which  he  was  created.  We 
hold  that  it  is  a  pity  to  see  so  much  talent 
wasted,  and  it  was  indeed  a  melancholy  sight 
to  see  so  many  capable  actors  and  actresses 

laboring  to " 

"This   is  even   worse    than    usual,"   said 


86  VAIN  FORTUNE 

Hubert ;  and  glancing  through  half  a  column 
of  hysterical  commonplace,  he  came  upon  the 
following: 

"But  if  this  woman  had  succeeded  in  re- 
claiming from  vice  the  man  who  unjustly 
divorced  her,  and  who  in  his  misery  goes 
back  to  ask  her  forgiveness  for  pity's  sake, 
what  a  lesson  we  should  have  had  !  And, 
with  lightened  and  not  with  heavier  hearts, 
we  should  have  left  the  theatre  comforted, 
better  and  happier  men  and  women.  But 
turning  his  back  on  the  goodness,  truth,  and 
love  whither  he  had  induced  us  to  believe  he 
was  leading  us,  the  author  flagrantly  makes 
the  woman  contradict  her  whole  nature  in  the 
last  act;  and,  because  her  husband  falls  again, 
she,  instead  of  raising  him  with  all  the  tender 
mercies  and  humanities  of  wifehood,  declares 
that  her  life  has  been  one  long  mistake,  and 
that  she  accepts  the  divorce  which  the  court 
has  unjustly  granted.  The  moral,  if  such  a 
word  may  be  applied  to  such  a  piece,  is 
this :  '  The  law  may  be  bad,  but  human  nature 
is  worse.'  " 

Nearly  all  the  other  papers  took  the  same 
view — a  great  deal  of  talent  wasted  on  a 
subject  that  could  please  no  one.  Hubert 


VAIN  FORTUNE  87 

threw  the  papers  aside,  lay  back,  and  in  the 
lucid  idleness  of  the  bed  his  thoughts  grew 
darker.  It  was  impossible  that  the  piece 
could  survive  such  notices;  and  if  it  did  not? 
Well,  he  would  have  to  go.  But  until  the 
piece  was  taken  out  of  the  bills  it  would  be 
a  weakness  to  harbor  the  ugly  thought. 

Every  post  brought  newspapers ;  the  room 
was  filled  with  newspapers — all  kinds  of 
newspapers — papers  one  has  never  heard  of — 
French  papers,  Welsh  papers,  North  of  Eng- 
land papers,  Scotch  and  Irish  papers.  Hubert 
read  columns  about  himself,  anecdotes  of  all 
kinds— where  he  was  born,  who  were  his 
parents,  and  what  first  induced  him  to  at- 
tempt writing  for  the  stage ;  his  personal  ap- 
pearance, mode  of  life,  the  cut  of  his  clothes ; 
his  religious,  moral,  and  political  views.  Had 
he  been  the  plaintiff  in  an  action  for  criminal 
libel,  greater  industry  in  the  collection  and 
fabrication  of  personal  details  could  not  have 
been  displayed.  But  at  these  articles  Hubert 
only  glanced ;  he  was  interested  in  his  piece, 
not  in  himself,  and  when  Annie  brought  up 
The  Modern  Review  he  tore  it  open,  knowing 
he  would  find  there  criticism  more  funda- 
mental, more  searching.  But  as  he  read,  the 


88  VAIN  FORTUNE 

expression  of  hope  which  his  face  wore 
changed  to  one  of  pain  pitiful  to  look  upon. 
The  article  began  with  a  sketch  of  the  gen- 
eral situation,  and  in  a  tone  of  commiseration, 
of  benevolent  malice,  the  writer  pointed  out 
how  inevitable  it  was  that  the  critics  should 
have  taken  Mr.  Price,  when  "Divorce"  was 
first  produced,  for  the  new  dramatic  genius 
they  were  waiting  for.  "  There  comes  a  mo- 
ment," said  this  caustic  writer,  "  in  the  affairs 
of  men  when  the  new  is  not  only  eagerly 
accepted,  but  when  it  is  confounded  with  the 
original.  Wearied  by  the  old  stereotyped 
form  of  drama,  the  critics  had  been  astonished 
by  a  novelty  of  subject,  more  apparent  than 
real,  and  by  certain  surface  qualities  in  the 
execution ;  they  had  hailed  the  work  as 
being  original  both  in  form  and  in  matter, 
whereas  all  that  was  good  in  the  play  had 
been  borrowed  from  France  and  Scandinavia. 
'  Divorce '  was  the  inevitable  product  of  the 
time.  It  had  been  written  by  Mr.  Price,  but 
it  might  have  been  written  by  a  dozen  other 
young  men — granting  intelligence,  youth, 
leisure,  a  university  education,  and  three  or 
four  years  of  London  life — any  one  of  a  dozen 
clever  young  men  who  frequent  West  End 


VAIN  FORT 'UN K  89 

drawing-rooms  and  dabble  in  literature  might 
have  written  it.  All  that  could  be  said  was 
that  the  play  was,  or  rather  had  been,  dans  le 
mouvement ;  and  original  work  never  is  dans  le 
mouvement.  '  Divorce '  was  nothing  more  than 
the  product  of  certain  surroundings,  and  re- 
membering Mr.  Price's  other  plays,  there 
seemed  to  be  no  reason  to  believe  that  he 
would  do  better.  Mr.  Price  had  tried  his 
hand  at  criticism,  and  that  was  a  sure  sign 
that  the  creative  faculty  had  begun  to  wither. 
His  critical  essays  were  not  rich  nor  abundant 
in  thought,  they  were  not  the  skirmishing  of 
a  man  fighting  for  his  ideas,  they  were  not 
preliminary  to  a  great  battle;  they  were  at 
once  vague  and  pedantic,  somewhat  futile,  les 
ebats  d'un  esprit  en  peine,  and  seemed  to  an- 
-  nounce  a  talent  in  progress  of  disintegration 
rather  than  of  reconstruction.  Sometimes  the 
critic's  phrases  seemed  wet  with  tears ;  some- 
times, abandoning  his  tone  of  commiseration, 
he  would  assume  one  of  scientific  indifference. 
The  phenomenon  was  the  commonest.  There 
were  dozens  of  Hubert  Prices  in  London. 
The  universities  and  the  newspapers,  work- 
ing singly  and  in  collaboration,  turned  them 
out  by  the  dozen.  And  the  mission  of  these 


90  VAIN  FORTUNE 

men  of  intelligent  culture  seemed  to  be  to 
po&r  des  lapins  sur  la  jeune  presse.  Each 
one  came  in  turn  with  his  little  volume  of 
poems,  his  little  play,  his  little  picture;  all 
were  men  of  'advanced  ideas' ;  in  other  words, 
they  were  all  dans  le  mouvement.  There  was 
the  rough  Hubert  Price,  who  made  mild  con- 
sternation in  the  drawing-room,  and  there  was 
the  sophisticated  Hubert  Price,  who  cajoled 
the  drawing-room ;  there  was  the  sincere 
and  the  insincere,  and  the  Price  that  suffered 
and  the  Price  that  didn't.  Each  one  brought 
a  different  nuance,  a  thousand  infinitesimal 
variations  of  the  type,  but  considered  merely  in 
its  relation  to  art,  the  species  may  be  said  to 
be  divided  into  two  distinct  categories.  In  the 
first  category  are  those  who  rise  almost  at  the 
first  bound  to  a  certain  level,  who  produce 
quickly,  never  reaching  again  the  original 
standard,  dropping  a  little  lower  at  each  suc- 
cessive effort  until  their  work  becomes  indis- 
tinguishable from  the  ordinary  artistic  com- 
mercialism of  the  time.  The  fate  of  those  in 
the  second  category  is  more  pathetic;  they 
gradually  wither  and  die  away  like  flowers 
planted  in  a  thin  soil.  Among  these  men 
many  noble  souls  are  to  be  found,  men  who 


VAIN  FORTUNE  91 

have  surrendered  all  things  for  love  of  their 
art,  and  who  seemed  at  starting  to  be  the  best 
equipped  to  win,  but  who  failed,  impossible  to 
tell  how  or  why.  Sometimes  their  failure  turns 
to  comedy,  sometimes  to  tragedy.  They  may 
become  refined,  delicate,  elderly  bachelors, 
the  ornaments  of  drawing-rooms,  professional 
diners-out — men  with  brilliant  careers  behind 
them.  But  if  fate  has  not  willed  that  they 
should  retire  into  brilliant  shells;  if  chance 
does  not  allow  them  to  retreat,  to  separate 
themselves  from  their  kind,  but  arbitrarily 
joins  them  to  others,  linking  their  fate  to  the 
fate  of  others'  unhappiness,  disaster  may  and 
must  accrue  from  the  alliance;  honesty  of  pur- 
pose, trueness  of  heart,  deep  love,  every  great, 
good,  and  gracious  quality  to  be  found  in 
nature,  will  not  suffice  to  save  them." 

Hubert  read  no  more.  What  were  philo- 
sophical reflections  to  him?  The  paper 
dropped  from  his  hands,  and  he  recollected 
all  his  failures. 

"  Once  I  could  do  good  work ;  now  I  can 
do  neither  good  work  nor  bad.  Were  I  a 
rich  man,  I  should  collect  mfy  scattered  papers 
and  write  songs  to  be  sung  in  drawing-rooms; 
but  being  a  poor  one,  I  must — I  suppose  I 


92  VAIN  FORTUNE 

must  get  out.  Positively,  there  is  no  hope — 
debts  on  every  side.  Fate  has  willed  me  to  go 
as  went  Haydon,  Gerard  de  Nerval,  and  Mare- 
chal.  The  first  cut  his  throat,  the  second 
hanged  himself,  and  the  third  blew  out  his 
brains.  Clearly  the  time  has  come  to  consider 
how  I  shall  make  my  exit.  It  is  a  little  start- 
ling to  be  called  upon  so  peremptorily  to  go." 
He  only  glanced  at  the  letter  which  Annie 
had  brought  up  with  the  copy  of  The  Modern 
Review.  It  was  clearly  a  lawyer's  letter. 
Should  he  open  it?  Why  not  spare  himself 
the  pain?  He  could  alter  nothing;  and  in 
these  last  days —  Leaving  the  thought 
unfinished,  be  sought  for  his  keys;  he  went 
to  his  box,  unlocked  it,  and  took  out  a  small 
paper  package.  Of  the  fifty  pounds  he  had 
received  from  Ford,  about  twenty  remained  : 
he  had  been  poorer  before,  but  hardly  quite 
so  hopeless.  He  scanned  every  horizon — all 
were  barred.  The  thought  of  suicide,  and 
with  it  the  instinctive  shrinking  from  it,  came 
into  his  mind  again.  Suppose  he  took,  that 
very  night,  an  overdose  of  chloral?  He  tried 
to  put  the  thought  from  him,  and  returned,  a 
little  dazed  and  helpless,  to  his  chair.  Had 
the  critic  in  The  Modern  Review  told  him  the 


VAIN  FORTUNE  93 

truth  ?  Was  he  incapable  of  earning  a  living  ? 
It  seemed  so.  Above  all,  was  he  incapable 
of  finishing  "The  Gipsy"  as  he  intended? 
No;  that  he  felt  was  a  lie.  Give  him  six 
months'  quiet,  free  from  worry  and  all  anxi- 
ety, and  he  would  do  it.  Many  a  year  had 
passed  since  he  had  enjoyed  a  month  of 
quiet;  and  glancing  again  at  the  letter  on  the 
table,  he  thought  that  perhaps  at  that  very 
moment  a  score  of  gallery  boys  were  hissing 
his  play.  Perhaps  at  that  very  moment  Ford 
was  making  up  his  mind  to  announce  the  last 
six  nights  of  "Divorce."  At  a  quarter  to 
twelve  he  heard  Eose's  foot  on  the  stairs.  He 
opened  the  door. 

"  How  did  the  piece  go  to-night  ?  " 

"  Pretty  well." 

"  Only  pretty  well  ?  Won't  you  come  in  for 
a  few  minutes  ?  .  .  .  So  the  piece  didn't  go 
very  well  to-night  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes,  it  did.  I've  seen  it  go  better; 
but " 

"  Did  you  get  a  call  ?" 

"  Yes,  after  the  second  act." 

"Not  after  the  third?" 

"  No.  That  act  never  goes  well.  Harding 
came  behind ;  I  was  speaking  to  him,  and 


94  VAIN  FORTUNE 

he  said  something  which  struck  me  as  being 
very  true.  '  Ford,'  he  said,  '  plays  the  part  a 
great  deal  too  seriously.  When  the  piece 
was  first  produced,  it  was  played  more  good- 
humoredly  by  indifferent  actors,  who  let  the 
thing  run  without  trying  to  bring  out  every 
point.  Ford  makes  it  as  hard  as  nails.'  I 
think  those  were  his  exact  words." 

Hubert  did  not  answer.  At  the  end  of  a 
long  silence  he  said : 

"Did  you  hear  anything  about  the  last 
nights  ?  " 

" No,"  she  said;  " I  heard  nothing  of  that" 

"  Ford  appeared  quite  satisfied,  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,  quite,"  she  answered  with  difficulty ; 
for  his  eyes  were  fixed  on  her,  and  she  felt  he 
knew  she  was  not  telling  the  truth.  The  con- 
versation paused  again,  and  to  turn  it  into 
another  channel  she  said :  "  Why,  you  have 
not  opened  your  letter ! " 

"  I  can  see  it  is  a  lawyer's  letter,  on  account 
of  some  unpaid  bill.  If  I  could  pay  it  I 
would  ;  but  as  I  can't — 

"  You  are  afraid  to  open  it,"  said  Rose. 

Ashamed  of  his  weakness,  Hubert  opened 
the  letter,  and  began  to  read.  Rose  saw  that 
the  letter  was  not  such  an  one  as  he  had  ex- 


VAIN  FORTUNE  95 

pected,  and  a  moment  after  his  face  told  her 
that  fortunate  news  had  come  to  him.  The 
signs  of  the  tumult  within  were  represented 
by  the  passing  of  the  hand  across  the  brow, 
as  if  to  brush  aside  some  strange  hallucination, 
and  the  sudden  coming  of  a  vague  look  of 
surprise  and  fear  into  the  eyes.  He  said  : 

"Bead  it!  Bead  it!  I'm  not  dreaming, 
ami?" 

"No,  you  are  not.  Your  uncle  has  left  his 
money  to  you.  I  am  so  glad  ;  indeed,  I  am. 
You  will  be  able  to  finish  your  play,  and  take 
a  theatre  and  produce  it  yourself  if  you  like. 
I  hope  you  won't  forget  me.  I  do  want  to 
play  that  part.  You  can't  quite  know  what 
I  shall  do  with  it.  One  can't  explain  one's  self 
in  a  scene  here  and  there.  .  .  .  What  are  you 
thinking  of?" 

"I'm  thinking  of  that  poor  girl,  Emily 
Watson.  It  comes  very  hard  upon  her." 

"Who  is  she?" 

"  The  girl  my  uncle  disinherited." 

"  Oh,  she !  Well,  you  can  marry  her  if  you 
like.  That  would  not  be  a  bad  notion.  But 
if  you  do  you'll  forget  all  about  me  and  Lady 
Hay  ward." 

"No  ;  I  shall  never  forget  you,  Rose."    He 


96  VAIN  FORTUNE 

stretched  his  hand  to  her;  but,  irrespective 
of  his  will,  the  gesture  seemed  full  of  fare- 
well. 

"I'm  so  much  obliged  to  you,"  he  said; 
"  had  it  not  been  for  you  I  might  never  have 
opened  that  letter." 

"  Even  if  you  hadn't  it  wouldn't  have  mat- 
tered ;  you  would  have  heard  of  your  good 
fortune  some  other  way.  But  it  is  getting 
very  late.  I  must  say  good-night.  I  hope 
you  will  have  a  pleasant  time  in  the  country, 
and  will  finish  your  play.  Good-night" 

Returning  from  the  door,  he  stopped  to 
think.  "We  have  been  very  good  friends — 
that  is  all.  She  spoke  of  my  going  away  to 
the  country.  ...  I  think  I  could  write  my 
play  in  the  country.  Oh,  to  get  away  from 
here,  from  this  detestable  room,  where  I  have 
suffered  so  much.  It  seems  a  little  cruel  to 
leave  her,  and  yet  there  is  no  reason  why  it 
should.  She  does  not  care  for  me,  she  only 
cares  for  her  art  She  cares  for  her  art,  I 
believe,  even  more  than  I  do  for  mine.  How 
strangely  determined  she  is!  ...  More  so 
than  I  am.  She  is  bound  to  succeed.  There 
is  in  her  just  that  note  of  individual  passion. 
.  .  .  Perhaps  some  one  will  find  her  out 


VAIN  FORTUNE  97 

before  I  have  finished — that  would  be  a  pity. 
I  wonder  which  of  us  will  succeed  first?  " 

Then  the  madness  of  good  fortune  came 
upon  him  suddenly ;  he  could  think  no  more 
of  Rose,  and  had  to  go  for  a  long  walk  in  the 
streets.  He  remained  out  the  whole  of  the 
summer  night,  wandering  about,  a  prey  to 
nervous  agitation,  and  returned  home,  his 
head  still  full  of  whirling  dreams,  to  snatch  a 
few  hours  of  troubled  sleep  before  he  went  to 
the  solicitor  to  hear  the  detailed  story  of  his 
good  fortune.  He  was  curiously  interested  in 
his  cousin,  and  though  he  did  not  pretend  to 
think  that  his  uncle  had  been  guilty  of  an  in- 
justice in  not  leaving  the  bulk  of  his  fortune 
to  her,  he  agreed  with  Mr.  Grandly  in  the 
view  that  Mr.  Burnett  should  have  made  suf- 
ficient provision  for  her. 

The  conversation  paused.  Then  speaking 
suddenly,  Mr.  Grandly  said : 

"  If  you  have  any  communication  to  make 
to  Miss  Watson,  I  shall  be  pleased  to  take 
charge  of  it." 

"  I  shall  be  glad  if  you  will.  ...  It  is  a 
very  delicate  matter,  but  I  have  every  con- 
fidence in  your  tact  and  judgment." 

Mr.  Grandly  bowed. 
7 


98  VAIN  FORTUNE 

"  I  quite  understand  my  cousin  must  feel 
this  disinheritance  very  deeply." 

"I  have  reason  to  believe  that  she  does; 
she  had  been  brought  up  to  consider  Mr. 
Burnett  as  her  father.  But  I  may  again  bring 
it  under  your  notice  that  he  was  considering 
the  necessity  of  adding  a  codicil.  .  .  .  Indeed 
I  have  some  letters  in  which  reference  is  made 
— if  you  would  like  to  see  them." 

Mr.  Grandly  opened  a  drawer,  and,  taking 
out  a  bundle  of  letters,  he  sought  for  one. 
Finding  it,  he  read  a  few  lines,  and  ^v.^ed  it 
across  the  table  to  Hubert. 

Then  Hubert  proposed  that  Mr.  Grandly 
should  write  to  Miss  Watson,  asking  her  to 
corne  up  to  London  to  meet  her  cousin  at  his 
office.  Mr.  Grandly  agreed  to  do  this;  but 
after  some  further  conversation,  in  which  the 
excellence  of  Hubert's  feelings  was  evident, 
Mr.  Grandly  was  moved  to  advise  Hubert  to 
jump  into  the  train  and  go  down  and  see  the 
young  lady  himself. 

"It  is  a  delicate  matter,  sir ;  but  if  you  run 
down,  as  I  advise,  and,  claiming  relationship, 
tell  the  young  lady  that  you  intend  to  settle 
three  hundred  a  year  upon  her,  I  venture  to 
say  you  will  please  her  more  than  if  you 


VAIN  FORTUNE  99 

invited  her  up  here  and  settled  six  hundred 
a  year."  Mr.  Grandly  threw  himself  back  in 
his  chair,  and  a  twinkle  ran  round  the  corner 
of  his  eyes.  "  And  if  you  should  ever  feel 
inclined  to  call  in  the  three  hundred  you  so 
generously  propose  to  settle  on  the  young  lady, 
you  will  find  that — "  Mr.  Grandly  finished 
his  sentence  with  a  laugh. 

Hubert  did  not  doubt  that  Mr.  Grandly  was 
right;  but  he  was  a  shy,  reserved  man,  and 
felt  he  could  not  go  down  to  Ash  wood  and 
introduce  himself  to  those  two  ladies.  Mr. 
Grandly  tried  to  persuade  him,  and  finally 
the  matter  was  compromised.  Mr.  Grandly 
promised  to  write  to  Miss  Watson,  telling  her 
of.  her  cousin's  desire  to  see  her,  and  asking 
her  to  send  a  trap  to  meet  him  at  the  station 
on  Monday.  If  Hubert  took  the  half-past  four 
train  from  Victoria,  he  would  arrive  at  South 
Water  at  six. 

On  Saturday  night  Hubert  went  to  see  the 
last  performance  of  "  Divorca"  On  Sunday  he 
took  Rose  out  to  dinner.  They  dined  at  the 
Cafe  Royal ;  the  dinner  was  copious  and  ex- 
pensive, the  wine  was  the  rarest;  but  they 
both  felt  that  their  dinners  in  little  side- 
streets  had  given  them  more  pleasure.  Hu- 


100  VAIN  FORTUNE 

bert  tried  to  talk  to  her  about  Hamilton 
Brown's  new  drama,  which  they  had  just 
heard  would  follow  "Divorce;"  but  he  was 
unable  to  detach  his  thoughts  from  Ashwood 
and  the  ladies  he  was  going  to  visit  to-morrow 
evening.  They  felt  like  two  school-fellows,  one 
of  whom  is  leaving  school ;  the  link  that  had 
bound  them  had  snapped ;  henceforth  their 
ways  lay  separate;  and  they  were  sad  at 
parting,  just  as  school -friends  are  sad.  To 
both  of  them  their  friendship  seemed  strangely 
incomplete;  there  was  a  restlessness  in  their 
souls ;  and  yet  both  knew  that  they  were  not 
in  love.  Both  felt,  however,  that  things 
should  have  turned  out  differently.  The 
girl  thought  he  should  have  finished  the 
play ;  he  thought  he  ought  to  have  married 
her. 

"  You  are  not  rich,"  he  said ;  "  you  offered 
to  lend  me  money  once.  I  want  to  lend  you 
some  now." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  said,  with  a  sudden  laugh ; 
"  five  shillings,  wasn't  it?  " 

"  It  doesn't  matter  what  the  sum  was ;  we 
were  both  very  poor  then " 

"  And  I'm  still  poorer  now." 

"  All  the  more  reason  why  you  should  allow 


VAIN  FORTUNE  101 

me  to  help  you.  .  .  .  Allow  me  to  write  you 
a  cheque  for  a  hundred  pounds.  I  assure  you 
I  can  afford  it." 

"  I  think  I  had  better  not.  ...  I  have  some 
things  I  can  sell." 

"  But  you  must  not  sell  your  things.  In- 
deed, you  must  allow  me — 

"I  think  I'd  rather  not.  I  shall  be  all 
right — that  is  to  say,  if  Ford  engages  me  for 
Brown's  new  piece  ;  and  I  think  he  will." 

"But  if  he  doesn't?" 

"  Then,"  she  said,  with  a  sweet  and  natural 
smile,  "  I'll  write  to  you.  .  .  .  We  have  been 
excellent  friends,  comrades — have  we  not?  " 

"Yes,  we  have,  indeed,  and  I  shall  never 
forget.  There  is  my  address  ;  that  will  al- 
ways find  me." 

Next  day  he  bade  good-by  to  the  whole 
house — to  Mrs.  Wilson,  to  Annie,  and  once 
more  to  Rose.  He  caught  up  his  rug,  and  a 
moment  after  he  was  driving  toward  Victoria. 
Before  he  reached  the  railway  station  the  last 
realities  of  the  lodging-house,  the  good-bys 
bidden  on  the  doorstep,  began  to  fade,  and  he 
again  lost  himself  in  the  glamour  and  hallu- 
cination of  the  new  life  which  chance  had  so 
unexpectedly  thrust  upon  him.  Like  one  in 


102  VAIN  FORTUNE 

fairyland,  he  was  prepared  for  everything. 
Anything  might  happen.  He  had  ceased  to 
calculate,  had  surrendered  himself  up  to 
nature;  and  puzzled  by  the  irregularity  of 
her  metre,  he  listened  to  the  rattle  of  the  train, 
and  took  a  vague  joy  in  watching  the  white 
steam  going  out  and  dispersing  over  the  rich 
country  just  beginning  to  ripen  into  summer. 
This  house,  this  property,  these  ladies!  He 
wondered  what  they  would  say,  what  he 
should  say ;  and  in  extreme  nervousness  re- 
gretted not  having  given  the  solicitor  fuller 
instructions. 

"When  he  got  out  of  the  train,  a  smart  foot- 
man touched  his  hat,  and  a  fast-trotting  ani- 
mal took  him  rapidly  through  a  small  red 
town  into  a  fine  open  country,  the  outlines  of 
which  were  beginning  to  grow  dim  in  the 
setting  light. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

NEXT  morning  Hubert  lay  late  in  bed, 
tempted  by  the  fineness  of  the  sheets  and  the 
bright  air  and  color  of  the  room.  About 
half-past  ten  he  found  his  way  into  the  din- 
ing-room, and,  remembering  Fitzroy  Street, 
he  smiled  when  the  butler  proposed  devilled 
chicken,  kidneys,  omelette,  cutlets,  sausages. 
On  the  sideboard  there  were  a  pale,  enticing 
ham  and  a  rich  brown  tongue.  Mrs.  Bentley 
poured  out  a  cup  of  coffee  for  him,  and  boiled 
two  eggs  by  lighting  a  spirit  lamp  beneath  a 
pretty  silver  spirit  apparatus  that  stood  on 
the  dining-room  table.  He  asked  after  Emily, 
and  was  told  she  had  quite  recovered,  and 
was  now  in  the  flower-garden.  Seeing  he  had 
all  he  wanted,  she  begged  him  to  excuse  her. 
Then  his  thoughts  went  to  Emily,  whom  he 
imagined  among  the  swards  and  flower-beds, 
looking  after  the  gardener.  He  knew  he 
would  have  to  go  to  her  when  he  had  finished 
breakfast,  and  wished  the  meeting  was  over. 
He  dreaded  her  reproachful  eyes. 


104  VAIN  FORTUNE 

It  was  a  day  of  English  summer,  and  the 
meadows  and  trees  drowsed  in  the  moist  at- 
mosphere ;  a  few  white  clouds  hung  lazily  in 
the  blue  sky ;  the  garden  was  bright  with 
geraniums  and  early  roses,  and  the  closely- 
cropped  privets  were  in  full  leaf.  Hubert's 
senses  were  taken  with  the  beauty  of  the 
morning,  and  there  came  the  thought,  so  de- 
licious, "All  this  is  mine."  He  noticed  the 
glitter  of  the  greenhouses,  and  thought  the 
cawing  of  some  young  rooks  a  sweet  sound ; 
a  great  tortoise-shell  cat  lay  basking  in  the 
middle  of  the  greensward,  whisking  its  furry 
tail.  Hubert  stroked  the  animal ;  it  arched 
its  back,  and  rubbed  itself  against  his  legs. 
At  that  moment  a  half-bred  fox-terrier  barked 
noisily  at  him  ;  he  heard  some  one  calling  the 
dog,  and  saw  a  slight  black  figure  hastening 
down  one  of  the  side- walks.  Despite  the 
dog's  attempts  on  his  legs,  he  ran  forward. 

"  Emily  !  Emily !  "  he  called.  She  stopped, 
turned,  and  stood  looking  at  him. 

"  My  dear  cousin,"  he  said.  "  I'm  sorry 
about  last  night.  I  hope  that  Mrs.  Bentley 
has  told  you.  I  begged  of  her  to  do  so." 

"Yes,  she  told  me  of  your  kind  intentions. 
I  have  to  thank  you." 


VAIN  FORTUNE  105 

They  walked  on  in  silence,  neither  knowing 
what  to  say. 

"  Go  away,  Dandy  ! "  said  Emily,  thrusting 
her  black  silk  parasol  at  the  dog,  who  had 
begun  an  attack  on  Hubert's  trousers.  The 
dog  retreated ;  Hubert  laughed. 

"  I'm  afraid  he  doesn't  like  me." 

"He'll  soon  get  to  know  you.  Are  you 
fond  of  animals  ?  " 

"I  don't  know  that  I  am  particularly." 

"  Oh  !  "  she  said,  looking  at  him  reproach- 
fully, "  how  can  you  ?  "  Her  eyes  seemed  to 
say,  "  I  never  can  like  you  after  that"  "  I 
adore  animals,"  .she  said.  "  My  dear  dog — 
there  is  nothing  in  the  world  I  love  as  I  love 
iny  Dandy.  Come  here,  dear."  The  dog 
came,  wagging  his  tail,  putting  back  his  ears, 
knowing  he  was  going  to  be  caressed.  Emily 
stooped  down,  took  his  rough  head  in  her 
hands,  and  kissed  him.  "  Is  he  not  a  dear  ?  " 
she  said,  looking  up  ;  and  then  she  said:  "  I 
hope  you  won't  object  to  having  him  in  the 
house ; "  and  her  face  clouded. 

"  Oh,  my  dear  Emily,  how  can  you  ask 
such  a  question  ?  I  shall  never  object  to 
anything  you  desire."  The  conversation 
paused,  and  they  walked  some  paces  in  silence. 


106  VAIN  FORTUNE 

Emily  had  just  begun  to  speak  of  her  flowers, 
when  they  came  upon  the  gardener,  who  was 
standing  in  consternation  over  the  fragments 
of  a  broken  mowing-machine.  Jack — that 
was  the  donkey— had  been  left  to  himself  just 
for  a  moment  It  was  impossible  to  say  what 
wild  freak  had  taken  him ;  but  instead  of 
waiting,  as  he  was  expected  to  wait,  stolidly, 
he  had  started  off  on  a  wild  career,  regardless 
of  the  safety  of  the  machine.  At  the  first 
bound  it  had  come  in  contact  with  a  flower- 
vase,  which  had  been  sent  in  many  pieces 
over  the  sward;  at  the  second  it  had  met 
with  some  stone  coping;  and  at  the  third 
it  had  turned  over  in  complete  dissolution, 
and  Jack  was  free  to  tear  up  the  turf  with 
his  hoofs,  until  finally  his  erratic  course  was 
stopped  by  the  small  boy  who  was  respon- 
sible for  the  animal's  behavior.  The  arrival 
of  Hubert  and  Emily  saved  the  small  boy 
from  many  a  cuff  and  the  donkey  from  a  kick 
or  two ;  and  Jack  stood  amid  the  ruin  he  had 
created,  as  quiet  and  as  docile  a  creature  as 
the  mind  could  imagine. 

"  Oh,  you — you  wicked  Jack !  Who  would 
have  thought  it  of  you?"  said  Emily, 
throwing  her  arms  round  the  animal's  neck. 


VAIN  FORTUNE  107 

"And  at  your  age,  too!  This  is  my  old 
donkey,"  she  said,  turning  her  dreamy  eyes 
on  Hubert  "  I  used  to  ride  him  every  day 
until  about  two  years  ago.  I  love  my  dear 
old  Jack,  and  would  not  have  him  beaten  for 
worlds,  although  he  is  so  wicked  as  to  break 
the  mowing-machine.  Look  what  you  have 
done  to  the  flower- vase."  The  animal  shook 
its  long  ears. 

Hubert  and  Emily  strolled  down  a  long 
walk,  wondering  what  they  should  talk  about. 

"  These  are  really  very  pretty  grounds,"  he 
said  at  last  "  I  am  sure  I  shall  enjoy  myself 
immensely  here."  The  remark  appeared  to 
him  to  be  of  doubtful  taste,  and  he  hastened 
to  add :  "  That  is  to  say,  if  I  have  completely 
made  it  up  with  my  pretty  cousin." 

"  But  you  have  not  seen  the  place  yet,"  she 
said,  speaking  still  with  a  certain  tremor  in 
her  voica  "  You  haven't  even  seen  the  gar- 
dens. Come,  and  I'll  show  them  to  you." 

Hubert  would  have  preferred  to  walk  with 
her  through  these  ornamental  swards  ;  and  he 
liked  the  espalier  apple-trees  with  which  the 
garden  was  divided  better  than  the  glare  and 
heat  of  the  greenhouses  into  which  she  took 
him. 


108  VAIN  FORTUNE 

"  Do  you  care  for  flowers?  " 

"  Not  very  much." 

"  These  are  all  my  flowers,"  she  said,  point- 
ing to  many  rows  of  flower-pots.  "  These  are 
Julia's.  You  see  I  run  a  line  of  thread  around 
mine,  so  that  there  shall  be  no  mistake.  She 
is  not  nearly  so  careful  as  I  am,  and  it  isn't 
nice  to  find  that  the  plants  you  have  been 
tending  for  weeks  have  been  spoilt  by  over- 
watering.  I  don't  say  she  doesn't  love  them, 
but  she  forgets  them.  .  .  .  Just  look  at 
these ;  they  are  devoured  by  insects.  They 
want  to  be  taken  out  and  given  a  thorough 
cleansing.  Even  then  I  doubt  if  they  would 
come  out  right — a  plant  never  forgives  you; 
it  is  just  like  a  human  being." 

"  And  doesn't  a  human  being  ever  for- 
give?" 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  mean  that  I  "  she  said,  blush- 
ing ;  "  but  sometimes  I  could  cry  over  the 
poor  plants  which  she  neglects.  I  dare  say 
you  will  think  me  very  ridiculous,  but  I  do 
cry  sometimes,  and  sometimes  I  cannot  resist 
taking  them  out  on  the  sly,  and  giving  them 
a  thoroughly  good  syringing — only  you  must 
not  tell  her  ;  we  have  agreed  not  to  touch  each 
other's  flowers.  But  I  cannot  bear  to  see  the 


VAIN  FORTUNE  109 

poor  things  dying.     How  do  we  know  that 
they  do  not  suffer?  " 

"  I  don't  think  it  probable." 

"  But  we  don't  know  for  certain,"  she 
said,  fixing  her  great  eyes  on  him.  "Do 
we?" 

"  We  know  nothing  for  certain,"  he  an- 
swered; and  then  he  said:  "You  and  Mrs. 
Bentley  have  lived  a  long  time  together?  " 

"  No,  not  very  long.  About  a  couple  of 
years.  I  was  about  thirteen  when  I  came  to 
Ash  wood ;  I  am  now  eighteen.  Mrs.  Bentley 
is  a  sort  of  connection.  She  is  very  poor — 
that  is  why  Mr.  Burnett  asked  her  to  come 
and  live  here ;  besides,  as  I  grew  up  I  wanted 
a  companion.  She  has  been  very  good  to  me. 
We  have  been  very  happy  together — at  least, 
as  happy  as  one  may  be ;  for  I  don't  think 
that  any  one  is  ever  very  happy.  Have  you 
been  very  happy  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  always  been  happy.  But  tell 
me  more  about  Mrs.  Bentley." 

"  There  is  little  more  to  tell.  I  naturally 
love  her  very  much.  She  nursed  me  when  I 
was  ill — and  I'm  often  ill ;  she  taught  me 
all  I  know,  she  cheered  me  when  I  was  sad 
—when  I  thought  my  heart  would  break ; 


110  VAIN  FORTUNE 

when  everybody  else  seemed  unkind  she 
was  kind." 

Emily  raised  her  eyes  and  looked  shyly  at 
Hubert;  and  then,  as  if  doubtful  of  herself, 
she  said :  "  Do  you  like  her  ?  I'm  sure  you  do. 
Every  one  does.  Do  you  not  think  she  is 
very  handsome  ?  " 

"  I  think  her  an  exceedingly  pleasant 
woman,  and  I'm  sure  we  shall  all  get  on  very 
well  together." 

"But  don't  you  think  her  very  hand- 
some?" 

"  Yes,  she  is-  a  handsome  woman. 

Nothing  more  was  said.  Emily  drew  med- 
itatively on  the  gravel  with  the  point  of  her 
parasol.  The  gardeners  looked  up  from  their 
work. 

"  I  have  to  go  now,"  she  said,  raising  her 
eyes  timidly,  "  to  feed  the  swans.  You  would 
not  care  to  go  so  far  ?  " 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  should  like  it  of  all 
things.  A  walk  by  the  water  on  a  day  like 
this  will  be  quite  a  treat." 

"Then  will  you  wait  a  moment?  I  will  go 
and  fetch  the  bread."  She  returned  soon  after 
with  a  small  basket ;  and  a  large  retriever,  tied 
up  in  the  corner  of  the  yard,  barked  and 


VAIN  FORTUNE  111 

lugged  at  his  chain.  "  He  knows  where  I  am 
going,  and  is  afraid  I  shall  forget  him — aren't 
you,  dear  old  Don?  You  wouldn't  like  to 
miss  a  walk  with  your  mistress,  would  you, 
dear?"  The  dog  bounded  and  rushed  from 
side  to  side ;  it  was  with  difficulty  that  Emily 
loosed  him.  Once  free,  he  galloped  down  the 
drive,  returning  at  intervals  for  a  caress  and  a 
sniff  at  the  basket  which  his  mistress  carried. 
"  There's  nothing  there  for  you,  my  beautiful 
Don  ! " 

The  drive  sloped  from  the  house  down  to 
the  artificial  water,  passing  under  some  large 
elms;  and  in  the  twilight  of  the  branches 
where  the  sunlight  played,  and  the  silence  was 
tremulous  with  wings,  Hubert  felt  that  Emily 
had  forgiven  him.  She  wore  the  same  black 
dress  that  he  had  admired  her  in  the  night 
before ;  her  waist  was  confined  by  the  same 
black  band;  but  the  chestnut  hair  seemed 
more  beautiful  beneath  the  black  silk  sun- 
shade, leaned  so  gracefully,  the  black  handle 
held  between  thumb  and  forefinger.  And  the 
little  black  figure  seemed  a  part  of  the  beauti- 
ful English  park,  now  so  green  and  fragrant  in 
all  the  flower  and  sunlight  of  June,  and  deco- 
rated with  a  blue  summer  sky,  and  white 


112  VAIN  FORTUNE 

clouds  moving  lazily  over  the  tops  of  the 
trees.  And  the  impression  of  the  beautiful 
park  was  enforced  by  its  reflection,  which  lay, 
with  the  mute  magic  of  reflected  things,  in  the 
still  water,  stirred  only  when,  with  exquisite 
motion  of  webbed  feet,  the  swans  propelled 
their  freshness  to  and  fro,  balancing  them- 
selves in  the  current  where  they  knew  the 
bread  must  surely  fall. 

"  They  are  waiting  for  me.  Cannot  you  see 
their  black  eyes  turned  toward  the  bridge?" 
And  she  threw  the  bread  from  the  basket,  and 
the  beautiful  birds  unbent  their  curved  necks, 
devouring  it  voraciously  under  the  water. 

In  the  larger  portion  of  this  artificial  lake 
there  were  two  islands,  thickly  wooded.  In 
the  smaller,  which  lay  behind  Emily  and  Hu- 
bert, there  was  one  small  island  covered  with 
reeds  and  low  bushes,  and  this  was  a  favorite 
haunt  for  the  water-fowl,  which  now  came 
swimming  forward,  not  daring  to  approach  too 
near  the  dangerous  swans. 

"  These  are  my  friends,"  said  Emily.  "They 
will  follow  me  to  the  other  end,  and  I  shall 
be  able  to  feed  them  as  we  walk  along  the 
meadow." 

Don  and  Dandy  bounded  through  the  tall 


VAIN  FORTUNE  113 

grass ;  sometimes  foolishly  giving  chase  to  the 
birds  that  rose  up  out  of  the  golden  grasses, 
barking  in  mad  eagerness — sometimes  pursu- 
ing a  hare  into  the  distant  woods.  The  last 
chase  had  led  them  far,  and  both  dogs  returned 
panting  to  walk  till  they  recovered  breath  by 
their  mistress's  side;  and  to  satisfy  the  re- 
triever's affection  Emily  held  one  hand  to 
him.  Playing  gently  with  his  ears,  she 
said: 

"  Did  you  ever  see  much  of  Mr.  Burnett  ?  " 

"  Not  since  I  was  a  boy,  ten  or  twelve  years 
ago,  when  I  was  at  the  university;  There 
was  absolutely  no  reason  for  his  doing  what 
he  did." 

"  Yes,  there  was,"  she  said,  in  a  strangely 
decisive  tone. 

"  May  I  ask— 

"  I  *do  not  know  if  I  ought  to  tell  you.  It 
would  be  better  not  to.  You  know,"  she  con- 
tinued, speaking  now  with  a  nervous  tremor 
in  her  voice,  "  that  I  do  not  want  you  to  think 
that  I  am  so  very  disappointed.  I  do  not 
know  that  I  am  disappointed  at  all.  You 
have  acted  so  generously." 

The  conversation  fell ;  but  the  sweet  meadow 
seemed  to  induce  confidences,  and  they  were 
8 


114  VAIN  FORTUNE 

so  bappy  in  their  youth  and  the  sorcery  of  the 
sunshine.  "  Five  years  ago  I  wrote  to  him," 
said  Hubert,  speaking  very  slowly,  "asking 
him  to  lend  me  fifty. pounds,  and  he  refused. 
Since  then  I  have  not  heard  from  him."  At 
the  end  of  a  long  silence,  the  girl  said  : 

"  So  long  as  you  know  that  I  am  no  longer 
angry  with  him  for  having  disinherited  me,  I 
do  not  mind  telling  you  the  reason.  Two 
months  before  he  died  he  asked  me  to  marry 
him,  and  I  refused." 

They  walked  several  yards  without  speak- 
ing. 

"Do  you  not  think  I  was  right?  I  was 
only  eighteen,  and  he  was  over  sixty." 

"  It  seems  to  me  quite  shocking  that  he 
could  have  even  contemplated  such  a  thing." 

"  But  look  at  these  poor  ducks ;  they  have 
followed  us  all  the  way,  and  I  have  forgotten 
to  feed  them !  "  Taking  out  all  the  bread  that 
remained  in  the  basket,  Emi]y  threw  it  to  the 
ducks  that  had  collected  where  the  dammed- 
up  stream  that  filled  the  lake  trickled  over  a 
wooden  sluice.  There  was  a  plank  by  which 
to  cross  the  deep  cutting.  Hubert  and  Emily 
paused,  and  stood  gazing  at  the  large  beech 
wood  that  swept  over  some  rising  ground. 


VAIN  FORTUNE  115 

Don  had  not  been  seen  for  some  time,  and. 
they  both  shouted  to  him.  Presently  a  black 
mass  was  seen  bounding  through  the  flowers, 
and  the  panting  animal  once  more  ensconced 
himself  by  his  mistress's  side. 

"I  was  very  fond  of  Mr.  Burnett,"  she  said, 
"but  I  could  not  marry  him.  I  could  not 
marry  any  man  I  did  not  love." 

"  And  because  you  refused  to  marry  him, 
he  did  not  mention  you  in  his  will.  I  never 
heard  of  such  selfishness  before  ! " 

"  Men  are  always  selfish,"  she  said  senten- 
tiously.  "  But  it  really  does  not  matter ; 
things  are  just  the  same ;  he  hasnt  succeeded 
in  altering  anything — at  least,  not  for  the 
worse.  We  shall  get  on  very  well  together." 

The  conversation  paused.  Then  Emily 
went  on  :  "  You  won't  tell  any  one  I  told 
you  ?  I  only  told  you  because  I  did  not  want 
you  to  think  me  selfish.  I  was  afraid  that 
after  the  foolish  way  I  behaved  last  night  you 
might  think  I  hated  you.  Indeed,  I  do  not. 
Perhaps  everything  has  happened  for  the  best. 
I  was  very  fond  of  the  old  man.  I  gave 
him  my  whole  heart ;  no  father  ever  had  a 
daughter  more  attached ;  but  I  could  not 
marry  him.  And  it  was  the  remembrance 


116  VAIN  FORTUNE 

of  my  love  for  him  that  made  me  burst  out 
crying.  I  do  not  think  I  realized  until  I  saw 
you,  how  cruelly  I  had  been  treated.  But 
you  won't  tell  any  one?  You  won't  tell  Mrs. 
Bentley  ?  She  knows,  of  course ;  but  do  not 
tell  her  that  I  told  you.  I  do  not  care  that 
my  feelings  should  be  made  a  subject  of  dis- 
cussion. You  promise  me  ?  " 

"  I  promise  you." 

They  now  reached  the  tennis  lawn.  The 
gong  sounded,  and  Emily  said :  "  That  is 
lunch,  and  we  shall  find  Julia  waiting  for  us 
in  the  dining-room."  It  was  as  she  said. 
Mrs.  Bentley  was  standing  by  the  sideboard, 
her  basket  of  keys  in  her  hand  ;  she  had  not 
quite  finished  her  housekeeping,  and  was 
giving  some  last  instructions  to  the  butler. 
Hubert  noticed  that  the  place  at  the  head  of 
the  table  was  for  him,  and  he  sat  down  a  little 
embarrassed  to  carve  a  chicken.  So  much 
home  after  so  many  years  of  homelessness 
seemed  strange. 

"Thank  you,  I'll  take  a  wing." 

"May  I  help  you?" 

"Thank  you,  Til  help  myself." 

He  gave  an  animated  account  of  their  morn- 
ing walk,  interspersing  it  with  playful  allu- 


VAIN  FORTUNE  117 

sions  to  Don's  temptations  among  the  rabbits, 
and  how  perfectly  incapable  he  had  shown 
himself  of  resisting  any.  Emily,  too,  was  full 
of  conversation  and  laughter ;  and  Mrs.  Bent- 
ley  thought:  "They  have  settled  their  mone- 
tary difficulties ;  I  wonder  if  any  other  will 
arise  ?  " 

At  that  moment  Hubert  looked  at  Mrs. 
Bentley,  and,  remembering  their  conversation 
of  the  previous  evening,  he  desired  to  tell 
her  how  very  charming  he  had  found  Emily, 
how  well  they  had  got  on  together.  And 
thinking  she  was  going  to  pass  through  the 
window  and  on  to  the  terrace,  Hubert  moved 
to  follow  her.  But,  mentioning  that  she  had 
some  orders  to  give  to  the  servants,  she  left 
the  room  by  the  farther  door. 

He  had  said  all  he  had  to  say  to  Emily, 
and  bethought  himself  of  a  walk  with  the 
gamekeeper.  As  he  made  inquiries  of  the 
butler,  Emily  said  'they  were  going  for  a  drive 
— going  to  have  tea  with  some  neighbors : 
would  he  not  come  to  accompany  them  ?  It 
was  impossible  to  refuse,  and  a  few  minutes 
after  the  pony-chaise  came  round. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

THE  next  day  Hubert  went  out  for  a  long 
walk  with  the  gamekeeper,  which  he  enjoyed 
immensely.  The  day  after  Emily  had  a  ten- 
nis party,  and  Hubert  was  introduced  to  the 
neighborhood — that  is  to  say,  to  the  parson 
and  his  wife,  the  general  on  half-pay,  to  the 
general's  various  daughters,  and  to  a  couple 
of  county  families.  On  the  third  day,  as  soon 
as  breakfast  was  over,  he  introduced  the  sub- 
ject of  his  departure.  Julia  waited,  but  as 
Emily  did  not  speak,  she  said  :  "  We  thought 
you  liked  the  country  better  than  town." 

"Soldo,  but— 

"  He's  tired  of  us,  and  we  had  better  leave," 
Emily  said,  abruptly. 

Hubert  started  a  little ;  he  looked  appeal- 
ingly  at  Julia,  and  seeing  the  look  of  genuine 
pain  upon  his  face,  she  took  pity  on  him. 
"  You  should  not  speak  like  that,  Emily  dear ; 
I  can  see  that  you  pain  Mr.  Price  very  much." 

"I  hope,  Emily,  that  you  will  stay  here  as 
long  as  you  like,"  he  said,  in  a  low,  gentle 


VAIN  FORTUNE  119 

voice  ;  "  as  long  as  it  is  convenient  and  agree- 
able to  you." 

"  We  cannot  stay  here  without  you,"  Emily 
replied  ;  "  we  are  your  guests." 

"And,"  said  Julia,  smiling,  "if  there  are 
guests,  there  must  be  a  host.  But  if  you 
have  business  in  London,  of  course  you  must 

go." 

"I  was  not  thinking  of  myself,"  said  Hu- 
bert, "  but  of  you  ladies.  I  was  afraid  that 
you  were  already  tired  of  me ;  that  you  might 
like  to  be  left  alone ;  that  you  had  business, 
preparations.  I  dare  say  I  was  all  wrong ; 
but  if  Emily  knew " 

"  I'm  sorry,  Hubert ;  I  did  not  mean  to  of- 
fend you.  I'm  very  unlucky.  You'll  forgive 
me." 

"  I've  nothing  to  forgive ;  I  only  hope  that 
you'll  never  think  again  that  I  want  to  get 
rid  of  you.  I  hope  that  you'll  stop  at  Ash- 
wood  as  long  as  ever  it  suits  you  to  do  so.  I 
don't  see  how  I  can  say  more." 

"I  like  to  stop  here  as  long  as  you  are 
here,"  Emily  said,  in  a  low  voice.  "  That  is 
all  I  meant." 

"  Then  we're  all  of  one  mind.  I  don't  want 
to  go  back  to  London.  If  you  don't  find 


120  VAIN  FORTUNE 

me  in  your  way,  I  shall  be  delighted  to 
stay." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Julia,  "  we  poor  country 
folk  can  hardly  hope  to  amuse  you." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that ! "  exclaimed 
Emily.  "  Where  would  he  find  any  one  to 
play  and  sing  to  him  in  the  evenings  as  you 
can?" 

The  conversation  paused,  and  all  were  hap- 
pier that  morning,  though  none  knew  why. 
Days  passed,  desultory  and  sweet,  and  all  who 
came  to  Ashwood  noticed  Emily's  joy — joy 
that  was  a  little  febrile  twin-sister  to  her 
grief.  And  day  after  day  she  grew  more 
joyous,  brightening  like  a  flower,  and  as  a 
flower's  life  hangs  on  its  petals,  so  did  her  life 
seem  hung  on  her  lips  and  hair.  Hubert 
watched  her  come  and  go  with  fluttering  words 
and  steps,  making  life  gracious  about  him.  He 
was  indolent,  haunting*  the  terraces  with  books 
taken  from  the  library ;  and  with  a  pile  of 
books  about  him,  he  lay  in  a  long  cane  chair 
under  the  trees ;  then  the  book  would  drop 
on  his  knees,  and  blowing  smoke  in  culling 
wreaths,  he  lost  himself  in  dramatic  medita- 
tions. It  was  pleasant  to  see  that  Emily  had 
grown  innocently,  childishly  fond  of  her 


VAIN  FORTUNE  121 

cousin,  and  her  fondness  expressed  itself  in 
a  number  of  pretty  ways.  "  Now,  Hubert, 
Hubert,  get  out  of  my  way,"  she  would  say, 
feigning  a  charming  petulance ;  or  she  would 
come  and  drag  him  out  of  his  chair,  saying : 
"Come,  Hubert,  I  can't  allow  you  to  lie  there 
any  longer ;  I  have  to  go  to  South  Water,  and 
want  you  to  come  with  me." 

And  walking  together,  they  seemed  like  an 
Italian  gray  hound  and  a  tall,  shaggy  setter. 

A  cloud  only  appeared  on  Emily's  face 
when  Julia  spoke  of  their  departure.  Julia 
had  proposed  that  they  should  leave  at  the 
end  of  the  month,  and  Emily  had  consented 
to  this  arrangement.  The  end  of  the  month 
had  appeared  to  her  indefinitely  distant,  but 
three  weeks  of  the  subscribed  time  had  passed, 
and  signs  of  departure  had  become  more  nu- 
merous and  more  peremptory.  Allusion  had 
been  made  to  the  laundress,  and  Julia  had 
asked  Emily  if  she  could  get  all  her  things 
into  a  single  box;  if  not,  they  would  have  to 
send  to  Brighton  for  another.  Emily  had  no 
notion  of  what  her  box  would  hold,  and  she 
showed  little  disposition  to  count  her  dresses 
or  put  her  linen  in  order.  She  seemed  en- 
tirely taken  up  thinking  what  books,  what 


122  VAIN  FORTUNE 

pictures,  what  china  she  could  take  away. 
She  would  like  to  have  this  bookcase,  and 
might  she  not  take  the  wardrobe  from  her 
own  room?  and  she  had  known  the  clock  all 
her  life,  and  it  did  seem  so  hard  to  part  with 
it 

"My  dear  girl,  all  these  things  belong  to 
Mr.  Price ;  you  really  cannot  take  them  away 
without  asking  him." 

"But  he  won't  refuse;  he'll  let  me  have 
anything  I  like." 

"  He  can't  very  well  refuse,  so  I  think  it 
would  be  nicer  on  your  part  not  to  ask  for 
anything." 

"  I  must  have  some  of  these  things :  I  want 
to  make  the  house  we  are  going  to  live  in, 
in  London,  look  as  much  like  Ashwood  as 
possible." 

"  You'd  like  to  take  the  whole  house  with 
you  if  you  could." 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  should."  And  Emily  turned 
and  looked  vaguely  up  and  down  the  passage. 
"  I  wonder  if  he'd  give  me  the  picture  of  the 
windmill." 

"  The  landing  would  look  very  bare  with- 
out it." 

"  It  would  indeed,  and  when  we  came  down 


VAIN  FORTUNE  123 

here  on  a  visit,  for  I  suppose  we  shall  come 
down  here  sometimes  on  visits,  I  should  miss 
the  picture  dreadfully,  so  I  don't  think  I'll  ask 
him  for  it  But  I  must  take  some  pictures 
away  with  me.  There  are  a  lot  of  old  things 
in  the  lumber  room  at  the  top  of  the  house, 
that  no  one  knows  anything  about.  I  think 
I'll  ask  him  to  let  me  have  them.  I'll  take 
him  for  a  good  long  ramble  through  the  house. 
He  hasn't  seen  any  of  it  yet,  except  just  the 
rooms  we  live  in  down-stairs." 

Emily  went  straight  to  Hubert.  He  was 
lying  in  the  long  wicker  chair,  his  straw  hat 
drawn  over  his  eyes,  for  the  sun  was  finding 
its  sharp,  white  way  through  the  leaves  of  the 
beeches. 

"  Now,  Hubert,  I  want  you.  Are  you 
asleep  ?  " 

"  Asleep !  No,  I  was  only  thinking."  He 
threw  his  legs  over  the  edge  of  the  low  chair 
and  stood  up.  The  thick  tawny  hair  flamed 
up,  and  the  necktie  of  pale  red  silk  and  the 
canvas  shoes  seemed  strangely  a  part  of  him, 
and  the  rough  gray  clothes  lent  a  special 
attractiveness. 

"  I  want  you,  Hubert,"  the  young  girl  said. 
She  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  continued : 


124  VATN  FORTUNE 

"  If  I  tell  you  what  I  want,  you  won't  refuse 
me,  will  you  ?  " 

"No,"  he  said  smilingly;  "I  don't  think  I 
shall." 

"Are  you  sure?"  she  said,  looking  at  him 
enigmatically.  Then  in  a  lighter  tone:  "I 
want  you  to  give  me  a  lot  of  things — oh,  not 
a  great  many,  nothing  very  valuable,  but — 

"But  what,  Emily?  .  .  .  You  can  have 
anything  you  want." 

"  Well,  we  shall  see.  You  must  come  with 
me;  I  must  show  you  what —  I  sha'n't  want 
them  unless  you  like  to  give  them.  Come 
along.  Oh,  you  must  come.  I  should  not 
care  about  them  unless  you  came  with  me, 
and  let  me  point  them  out"  She  passed  her 
little  hand  into  the  arm  of  his  rough  coat,  and 
led  him  towards  the  house.  "  You  know 
nothing  of  your  own  house,  so  before  I  go  I 
intend  to  show  you  all  over  it.  You  have  no 
idea  what  a  funny  old  place  it  is  up-stairs — 
endless  old  lumber  rooms  which  you  would 
never  think  of  going  into  if  I  didn't  take  you. 
When  I  was  a  little  girl  I  wasn't  often  allowed 
down-stairs :  the  top  of  the  house  still  seems  to 
me  more  real  than  any  other  part."  Throwing 
open  a  door  at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  she  said : 


VAIN  FORTUNE  125 

"  This  used  to  be  my  nursery.  It  is  all  bare  and 
deserted  now,  but  I  remember  it  quite  differ- 
ent. I  used  to  spend  hours  looking  out  of 
that  window.  From  it  you  can  see  all  over 
the  park,  and  the  park  used  to  be  my  great 
delight  I  used  to  sit  there  and  make  reso- 
lutions that  next  time  I  went  out  I  would  be 
braver,  and  explore  the  darkest  hollows  and 
all  queer  places  full  of  bushes  and  tall  ferns." 
"Did  you  never  break  your  resolutions?  " 
"  Sometimes  I  shrunk  back ;  I  was  afraid  of 
meeting  fairies  or  elves.  There  are  glades  and 
hollows  that  used  to  seem  very  wonderful. 
And  it  still  seems  very  wonderful,  only  not 
quite  in  the  same  way.  Doesn't  the  world 
seem  very  wonderful  to  you?  I'm  always 
wondering  at  things.  But  I  know  I'm  only 
a  silly  little  girl,  and  yet  I  like  to  talk  to  you 
about  my  fancies.  Down  there  in  the  beech 
wood  there  is  a  beautiful  glade.  I  loved  to 
play  there  better  than  anywhere  else.  I  used 
to  catch  butterflies  there  ;  it  was  very  cruel,  I 
know,  bat  I  was  making  a  collection  then." 
"  You  are  full  of  dreams,  Emily." 
"  Yes,  I  suppose  I  am.  Everything  is 
pleasant  and  happy  in  dreams.  I  love  dream- 
ing. They  thought  I'd  never  learn  to  read  j 


126  VAIN  FORTUNE 

but  it  wasn't  because  I  was  stupid,  but  be- 
cause I  wouldn't  study.  I'd  put  my  hands 
to  my  head,  and,  looking  at  the  book,  which 
I  didn't  see,  I'd  think  of  all  sorts  of  things, 
imagine  myself  a  fairy  princess." 

"  And  it  was  in  this  room  that  you  dreamed 
all  those  dreams  ?  " 

"  Yes,  in  this  dear  old  room.  You  see  that 
picture :  that  is  one  of  the  things  I  intended 
to  ask  you  to  give  me." 

"  What  ?    That  old,  dilapidated  print  ?  " 

"You  mustn't  abuse  my  picture.  I  used  to 
spend  hours  wondering  if  those  horsemen 
galloping  so  madly  through  the  wood  were 
robbers,  and  if  they  had  robbed  the  castle 
shown  between  the  trees.  I  used  to  wonder 
if  they  would  succeed  in  escaping.  They 
wouldn't  gallop  their  horses  like  that  unless 
they  were  being  pursued.  .  .  .  Can  I  have 
the  picture  ?  " 

"  Of  course  you  can.  Is  that — that  is  not 
all  you  are  going  to  ask  me  for  ?  " 

"  I  did  think  of  asking  you  for  a  few  more 
things.  Do  you  mind?  " 

"  No,  not  the  least  The  more  you  ask  for, 
the  more  I  shall  be  pleased." 

"Then  you  must  come  down-stairs." 


VAIN  FORTUNE  127 

They  went  down  to  the  next  landing. 
Emily  stopped  before  a  bed-room,  and,  look- 
ing at  Hubert  shyly  and  interrogatively,  she 
said: 

"  This  is  my  room.  I  don't  know  if  it  is 
in  a  fit  state  to  show  you.  I'm  not  a  very 
tidy  girl.  I'll  look  first." 

"  Yes,  it  will  do,"  she  said,  drawing  back. 
"You  can  look  in.  I  want  you  to  give  me 
that  wardrobe.  It  isn't  a  very  handsome  one, 
but  I've  used  it  ever  since  I  was  a  little  girl ; 
it  has  a  hollow  top,  and  I  used  to  hide  things 
there.  Do  you  think  you  can  spare  it?  " 

"Yes,  I  think  I  can,"  he  said,  smiling. 

Then  she  led  him  up-stairs  through  the  old 
lumber  rooms,  picking  out  here  and  there  some 
generally  broken  and  always  worthless  piece 
of  furniture,  pleading  for  it  timidly,  and 
strangely  delighted  when  he  nodded,  granting 
her  every  request.  She  asked  him  to  pull 
out  what  she  had  chosen  from  the  debris,  and 
a  curious  collection  they  made  in  the  passage 
— dim  and  worm-eaten  pictures,  small  book- 
cases, broken  vases  which  she  proposed  mend- 
ing. 

Hubert  wiped  the  dust  from  his  hands  and 
coat  sleeves. 


128  VAIN  FORTUNE 

"  What  a  lot  of  things  you  have  given  me ! 
Now  we  shall  be  able  to  get  on  nicely  with 
our  furnishing." 

"What  furnishing?" 

"  The  furnishing  of  the  little  house  in  Lon- 
don where  Julia  and  I  are  going  to  live.  You 
said  you  intended  to  add  a  hundred  a  year  to 
the  three  hundred  a  year  which  Mr.  Burnett 
should  have  left  me;  I  don't  see  why  you 
should  do  such  a  thing,  but  if  you  do  we  shall 
have  four  hundred  a  year  to  live  upon.  Julia 
says  that  we  shall  then  be  able  to  afford  to 
give  fifty  pounds  a  year  for  a  house.  We 
can  get  a  very  nice  little  house,  she  says,  for 
that— of  course,  in  one  of  the  suburbs.  The 
great  expense  will  be  the  furnishing ;  we  are 
going  to  do  it  on  the  hire  system.  I  dare  say 
one  can  get  very  nice  things  in  that  way, 
but  I  do  want  to  make  the  place  look  a  little 
like  Ashwood  ;  that  is  why  I'rn  asking  you  for 
these  things.  I  was  always  fond  of  playing 
in  these  old  lumber  rooms,  and  these  dim  old 
pictures,  which  I  don't  think  any  one  knows 
anything  of  except  myself,  will  remind  me 
of  Ashwood.  They  will  look  very  well,  in- 
deed, hanging  round  our  little  dining-room. 
You  are  sure  you  don't  want  them,  do  you  ?  " 


VAIN  FORTUNE  129 

"No,  I  won't  want  them.  I'm  only  too 
pleased  to  be  able  to  give  them  to  you." 

"  You  are  very  good,  indeed  you  are.  Look 
at  these  old  haymakers ;  I  never  saw  but  one 
little  corner  of  this  picture  before ;  it  was 
stowed  away  behind  a  lot  of  lumber,  and  I 
hadn't  the  strength  to  pull  it  out  .  .  .  I'm 
afraid  you've  got  yourself  rather  dusty." 

"  Oh,  no ;  it  will  brush  off." 

"  I  shall  hang  this  picture  over  the  fire- 
place; it  will  look  very  well  there.  I  dare 
say  you  don't  see  anything  in  it,  but  I'd 
sooner  have  these  pictures  than  those  down- 
stairs. I  love  the  picture  of  the  windmill  on 
the  first  landing " 

"  Then  why  not  have  it?  I'll  have  it  taken 
down  at  once." 

"  No,  I  could  not  think  of  taking  it.  How 
would  the  landing  look  without  it  ?  I  should 
miss  it  dreadfully  when  I  came  here — for  I 
dare  say  you  will  ask  us  to  visit  you  occa- 
sionally, when  you  are  lonely,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Emily,  whenever  you  like,  I 
hope  you  will  come  here." 

"And  you  will  come  and  stay  with  us  in 
London?  Your  room  will  be  always  ready  ; 
I'll  look  after  that  We  shall  feel  very 
9 


130  VAIN  FORTUNE 

offended,  indeed,  if  you  ever  think  of  going 
to  an  hotel.  Of  course,  you  mustn't  expect 
much ;  we  shall  only  be  able  to  keep  one 
servant,  but  we  shall  try  to  make  you  com- 
fortable, and,  when  you  come,  you'll  take  me 
to  the  theatres,  to  see  one  of  your  own  plays." 

"  If  my  play's  being  played,  certainly.  But 
would  it  be  right  for  me  to  pay  you  visits  in 
London  ? " 

"  They  would  be  very  wicked  people  indeed 
who  saw  anything  wrong  in  it;  you  are  my 
cousin.  But  why  do  you  say  such  things? 
You  destroy  all  my  pleasure,  and  I  was  so 
happy  just  now." 

"I'm  afraid,  Emily,  your  happiness  hangs 
on  a  very  slender  thread." 

She  looked  at  him  inquiringly,  but  feeling 
that  it  would  be  unwise  to  attempt  an  expla- 
nation, he  said  in  a  different  tone: 

"  But,  Emily,  if  you  love  Ash  wood  so  well, 
why  do  you  go  away  ?  " 

"  Why  do  I  go  away  !  We  have  been  here 
now  some  time.  ...  I  can't  live  here  al- 
ways." 

"  Why  not?  Why  not  let  things  go  on  just 
as  they  are  ?  " 

"  And  live  here  with  you,  I  and  Julia?  " 


VAIN  FORTUNE 

"Yes;  why  not?" 

"We  should  bore  you;  you  want  to  write 
your  plays,  you'd  get  tired  of  me." 

"  Your  being  here  would  not  prevent  my 
writing  my  plays.  I  have  been  thinking  all 
the  while  of  asking  you  to  remain,  but  was 
afraid  you  would  not  care  to  live  here." 

"  Not  care  to  live  here !  But  you'll  get 
tired  of  us  ;  we  might  quarrel." 

"  No,  we  shall  never  quarrel.  You  will  be 
doing  me  a  great  favor  by  remaining.  Just 
fancy  living  alone  in  this  great  house,  not  a 
soul  to  speak  to  all  day.  I'm  sure  I  should 
end  by  going  out  and  hanging  myself  on  one 
of  those  trees." 

"  You  wouldn't  do  that,  would  you  ?  " 

Hubert  laughed.  "  You  and  Mrs.  Bentley 
will  be  doing  me  a  great  favor  by  remaining. 
If  you  go  away  I  shall  be  robbed  right  and 
left,  the  gardens  will  go  to  rack  and  ruin,  and 
when  you  come  down  here  you  won't  know 
the  place,  and  then,  perhaps,  we  shall  quar- 
rel." 

"I  shouldn't  like  Ash  wood  to  go  to  rack 
and  ruin — and  my  poor  flowers !  And  I'm 
sure  you'd  forget  to  feed  the  swans.  If  you 
did  that,  I  could  not  forgive  you." 


132  VAIN  FORTUNE 

"  Well,  let  these  grave  considerations  decide 
you  to  remain." 

"  Are  you  really  serious  ?  " 

"  I  never  was  more  serious  in  my  life." 

"  Well,  then,  may  I  run  and  tell  Julia  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  and  I'll— no,  I  won't.  I'll  look 
up  the  housemaids  and  tell  them  to  restore  this 
interesting  collection  of  antiquities  to  their 
original  dust." 

It  took  some  time  to  find  the  housemaids, 
but  having  at  length  discovered  them,  Hubert 
gave  his  orders,  and  then  he  went  in  search  of 
Mrs.  Bentley.  There  was  no  reason  why  he 
should  see  her  at  once,  but  the  matter  inter- 
ested him,  and  he  thought  he'd  like  to  have 
it  settled.  He  came  across  her  unexpectedly, 
as  he  was  coming  in  the  back  way  from  the 
garden. 

"  I've  been  looking  for  you  everywhere, 
Mrs.  Bentley." 

"  And  I've  been  looking  everywhere  for 
you,  Mr.  Price." 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  we  have  met  at  last.  Of 
course  you  know  what  I  have  to  say  to  you? 
Emily  has  told  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  she  has  told  me." 

"  Then  you  have  no  objection  to  offer  ?  " 


VAIN  FORTUNE  133 

"  None  whatever.     How  could  I  have  ?  " 

"Then  everything  is  settled.  You  will 
continue  to  act  as  her  chaperon,  and  perhaps 
you  will  be  so  kind  as  to  look  after  my 
house?  I  shall  be  deeply  grateful  to  you  if 
you  will." 

"I'll  do  my  best  to  keep  things  in  order. 
For  the  last  three  weeks  I  have  not  interfered 
— I  was  your  guest  But  now  that  you  place 
me  in  authority  I  will  look  into  things  again. 
I'll  try,  of  course,  to  save  you  as  much  trouble 
as  possible,  but  you  must  understand,  at  least 
in  a  general  way,  how  things  have  been  carried 
on,  and  then  you.  can  decide  what  changes 
you  would  like  made." 

"Really,  Mrs.  Bentley,  I'm  quite  satisfied. 
I  have  so  little  taste  for  accounts.  In  a  few 
days  I  intend  to  go  thoroughly  into  my 
affairs.  I  had  thought  of  writing  to  my 
solicitor,  but — 

"I  will  not  trouble  you  very  long.  My 
business  with  you  is  not  important  enough  to 
need  the  assistance  of  a  solicitor.  I  merely 
want  to  show  you  what  are  our  household 
expenses.  No;  I  promise  you  there  shall 
be  no  long  accounts  to  go  through.  You 
need  not  look  further  into  things  than  the 


134  VAIN  FORTUNE 

general  accounts — for  instance,  the  servants' 
wages — 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Bentley— 

"  No;  you  really  must  know  how  much  we 
are  spending — that  is  to  say,  if  you  wish  me 
to  continue." 

"  But,  of  course — 

"Then,  listen.  Give  me  your  attention, 
and  in  an  hour  we  shall  have  finished." 

So  Hubert  had  to  bend  his  intelligence 
upon  household  economy,  and  even  sanction 
some  cutting  down  of  expenses.  He  very 
often  said,  "  Yes — quite  so  ;  "  but  Mrs.  Bent- 
ley  was  not  easily  deceived,  and  she  insisted 
on  his  understanding  the  necessity  of  keeping 
two  under-housemaids.  A  great  deal  of  fuel 
had  been  wasted  in  the  garden,  and  she  had 
little  doubt  the  coal  bill  could  be  reduced. 
There  were  the  horses,  an  expensive  item,  and 
at  least  two  should  be  sent  away.  Hubert 
wished  things  to  go  on  without  any  change — 
at  least,  for  the  present — and  was  not  prepared 
to  say  that  a  second  gamekeeper  was  not 
required.  Allusion  was  made  to  the  farm, 
the  number  of  eggs  the  bailiff  generally  sent 
up,  and  the  income  derived  from  the  sale  of 
butter.  At  last  everything  seemed  settled; 


VAIN  FORTUNE  135 

but  Mrs.  Bentley  still  hesitated,  and  it  was 
not  until  Hubert  rose  that  she  decided  to 
speak. 

"  There  is  only  one  thing  more  I  have  to 
trouble  you  with,  and  that  is  myself.  You 
were  kind  enough  to  let  me  remain  here  as 
Emily's  companion — 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Bentley— 

"No, no;  we  must  understand  one  another. 
I  am  a  distant  cousin  of  the  late  Mr.  Burnett, 
a  connection  of  yours.  My  husband  died 
leaving  me  quite  unprovided  for " 

"  I  know,  Emily  has— 

"  I  really  must  insist  on  your  hearing  me 
out,"  she  said,  smiling.  "  My  husband  left 
me  entirely  unprovided  for  ;  and,  knowing  of 
my  circumstances,  Mr.  Burnett  asked  me  to 
come  and  look  after  his  house.  I  have  no 
means  whatever.  He  allowed  me  fifty  pounds 
a  year." 

"Well,  then,  I  allow  you  the  same.  Do 
not  let  us  talk  any  more  about  it.  I'm  sure  I 
hope  you'll  be  happy  here.  Anything  you 
want,  if  you  will  let  Emily  know,  I  shall,  I'm 
sure,  be  only  too  glad " 

"It  is  very  kind." 

Their    eyes  met  .  .  .  they   looked    aside. 


136  VAIN  FORTUNE 

Then,  to  break  an  irritating  silence,  Mrs. 
Bentley  said:  "You  are  satisfie'd,  I  suppose, 
at  the  way  things  here  turned  out?  I  think 
Emily  is.  Your  generosity  has  quite  won  her 
heart  We  are  only  afraid  now  lest  you 
should  not  be  satisfied." 

"  If  I  should  not  be  satisfied  !  I  hardly 
understand." 

"  Well,  some  men  might  not  care  to  accept 
the  responsibility  of  looking  after  two  women. 
Some  men  are  women-haters  ;  some  men 
would  have  preferred  to  live  alone." 

"  I  assure  you  I'm  not  a  woman-hater ;  I 
have  lived  too  much  alone,  and  grown  tired 
of  my  own  company.  I'm  sure  that  so  long 
as  you  and  Emily  are  free  to  remain — I  mean 
that  you  will  both  do  me  a  great  favor  by 
remaining  at  Ashwood.  I  suppose  the  time 
will  come  when  some  one  will  come  and  take 
Emily  away.  It  would  be  selfish,  to  say  I 
hope  that  time  will  never  come!  " 

Mrs.  Bentley  looked  as  if  she  were  going  to 
say  something,  but  she  changed  her  mind. 

"  Of  course,  a  pretty  girl  like  that  doesn't 
remain  long  single.  I  dare  say  there's  many 
a  young  fellow  in  the  neighborhood  whose 
heart  is  breaking  for  her." 


VAIN  FORTUNE  137 

"  I  don't  think  we  have  got  SUCQ  a  thing  as 
a  young  man  in  the  neighborhood — at  least, 
none  that  Emily  would  care  about" 

".Well,  we  must  get  some  whom  she  will. 
.  .  .  When  I'm  a  little  settled  here,  we — I'll 
ask  some  friends.  The  editor  of  The  Cosmo- 
politan. I'm  longing  to  ask  him  here,  and 
he  knows  every  one.  I'll  ask  him  to  bring 
down  an  irresistible  young  man." 

"  I'm  afraid  you'll  find  she  is  difficult  to 
suit" 

"  Do  you  think  so?  "  Hubert  wondered  if 
Mrs.  Bentley  meant  that  Emily  did  not  wish 
to  marry.  Then,  speaking  suddenly,  he  said  : 
"I  never  could  understand  those  who  like 
every  woman.  It  seems  to  me  so  necessary 
to  choose,  to  find  exactly  the  one  we  love. 
Then  all  the  others  are  indifferent  to  us." 

"  I  thought  men  were  not  like  that.  I 
thought  that  men  could  like  any  woman  if 
she  were  pretty." 

Her  voice  sank,  and  she  forgot  herself  in 
thought  Hubert  wondered  if  her  experience 
of  men  had  been  a  sad  one.  "  One  can  only 
speak  for  one's  self,"  he  said.  "  I  could  only 
love  one  woman." 

She  looked  at  him  a  little  puzzled.     Did  he 


1S8  VAIN  FORTUNE 

mean  that  he  was  by  temperament  a  monog- 
amist, or  that  he  had  chosen  and  could  never 
choose  again?  In  the  silence  that  settled  be- 
tween them,  both  wondered  how  it  was  that 
they  who  three  weeks  before  had  met  for  the 
first  time  should  be  now  discussing  the  most 
intimate  characteristics  of  each  other's  souls. 
Raising  her  eyes,  she  examined  his  pale  face 
lit  with  gray,  quiet  eyes.  They  were  not  un- 
like— fair  Saxon  faces,  wearing  the  expression 
of  the  country  that  produced  them  ;  and  the 
nature  so  plainl}-  written  on  their  faces  seemed 
to  reach  to  their  souls,  and  to  mould  and  color 
their  very  slightest  thought 

At  that  moment  steps  were  heard  in  the 
passage,  and  the  door  opened  quickly.  "  Do 
you  not  know  that  lunch  is  waiting  ?  What 
can  you  have  to  say  to  each  other  all  this 
while?" 

"  I  was  explaining  to  Mr.  Price  a  number 
of  details  connected  with  the  management  of 
the  house — dry  matters  of  pounds,  shillings, 
and  pence  —  business,  Emily,  which  you 
would,  I'm  afraid,  attend  to  with  even  worse 
grace  than  he." 

Two  days  after,  he  received  a  visit  from  the 
county  solicitor,  and  the  business  of  the  estate 


VAIN  FORTUNE  139 

absorbed  the  greater  portion  of  his  time  for  at 
least  a  fortnight.  It  was  necessary  that  he 
should  visit  his  tenants,  and  hear  what  each 
had  to  say  about  reduction  of  rent  and  the 
improvements  of  farm  buildings  which  needed 
overhauling. 

It  was  amusing  to  listen  to  the  questions 
he  put,  making  the  folk  smile — at  the  same 
time  betraying  a  love  of  the  country  which 
they  who  had  seen  nothing  else  could  neither 
feel  nor  understand  His  naturalness  was  very 
winning ;  and  the  bailiff  once  said :  "  That's 
jest  what  I  likes  about  he  ;  he  doan't  pretent 
to  knaw  what  he  knaws  nothing  about."  This 
seemed  to  all  an  adequate  explanation,  except, 
perhaps,  the  groom,  who  found  it  difficult  to 
think  much  of  a  gentleman  who  went  for  long 
walks  across  the  downs  when  there  were 
horses  in  the  stable  wanting  exercise. 

Coming  home  in  the  evening,  at  the  hour 
when  the  hind  drives  the  cows  from  the  past- 
ure to  the  milking-shed,  he  experienced  a  joy 
of  which  he  was  half  ashamed,  so  selfish  did 
it  seem ;  for  his  heart  exulted  when  he  opened 
the  white  gate  and  looked  upon  his  park. 
He  walked  up  the  drive  slowly,  thinking  of 
the  first  time  he  saw  it.  The  swallows  flew 


140  VAIN  FORTUNE 

high,  just  as  now,  and  all  the  tranquil  beauty 
of  the  hour  was  reflected  in  the  artificial 
water.  In  these  moments  the  plausive  and 
wilful  sweetness  of  life  possessed  him ;  and  the 
joy  about  his  heart  grew  tense  indeed  when  he 
stopped,  alittletired,  butso  happy,  after  hislong 
ramble,  and  viewed  his  house  in  the  setting 
light — the  long  terrace,  bright  with  flowers, 
and  the  slender  figures  of  the  women  walking 
to  and  fro,  their  arms  about  one  another. 

He  was,  perhaps,  a  little  too  conscious  of 
his  happiness ;  and  he  feared  to  do  anything 
that  would  endanger  the  pleasure  of  his 
present  life.  It  seemed  to  him  like  a  costly 
thing  which  might  slip  from  his  hand  or  be 
broken ;  and  day  by  day  he  appreciated  more 
and  more  the  delicate  comfort  of  this  well- 
ordered  house — its  brightness,  its  ample 
rooms,  the  charm  of  space  within  and  with- 
out, the  health  of  regular  and  wholesome 
meals,  the  presence  of  these  two  women, 
whose  first  desire  was  to  minister  to  his  least 
wish  or  caprice.  These,  the  first  spoilings  he 
had  received,  combined  to  render  him  singu- 
larly happy.  Bohemianism,  he  often  thought, 
had  been  forced  upon  him — it  was  not  natural 
to  him ,  and  though  spiritual  belief  was  dead, 


VAIN  FORTUNE  141 

he  experienced  in  church  a  resurrection  of 
influences  which  misfortune  had  hypnotized, 
but  which  were  stirring  again  into  life.  He 
was  conscious  again  of  this  revival  of  his 
early  life  in  the  evenings  when  Mrs.  Bentley 
went  to  the  piano ;  and  when  playing  a  game 
of  chess  or  draughts,  remembrances  of  the 
old  Shropshire  rectory  came  back,  sudden,  dis- 
tinct, and  sweet.  In  these  days  the  disease 
of  fame  and  artistic  achievement  only  sang 
monotonously,  plaintively,  like  the  wind  in 
the  valleys  where  the  wind  never  wholly  rests. 
Sometimes,  when  moved  by  the  novel  he 
was  reading,  he  would  discuss  its  merits  and 
demerits  with  the  two  women  who  sat  by  him 
in  the  quiet  of  the  dim  drawing-room,  their 
work  on  their  knees,  thinking  of  him.  In  the 
excitement  of  criticism  his  thoughts  wandered 
to  his  own  work,  and  the  women's  eyes  filled 
with  reveries,  and  their  hands  folded  languidly 
over  their  knees.  He  spoke  without  emphasis, 
his  words  seeming  to  drop  from  the  thick 
obsession  of  his  dream.  At  ten  the  ladies 
gathered  up  their  work,  bade  him  good-night; 
and  nightly  these  good-nights  grew  tenderer, 
and  nightly  they  went  up-stairs  more  deeply 
penetrated  with  a  sense  of  their  happiness. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

HE  was  strangely  happy — it  was  the  happi- 
ness of  rest,  and  the  peace  he  enjoyed  was  as 
beautiful  as  the  summer  which  drowsed  in  the 
shady  English  park,  waxing  every  day  to 
deeper  fulness  and  perfection.  He  had  never 
known  before  the  charm  of  ladies'  society, 
and  his  shyness  and  unsensual  nature,  which 
had  alienated  him  from  London  women,  en- 
deared him  to  these  quiet  country  ladies,  and 
gradually  he  became  their  idol.  When  he 
was  not  present,  they  talked  of  him,  and  he 
watched  and  delighted  in  the  contemplation 
of  their  love  for  one  another,  which  the  slight 
accidents  of  every  hour  of  their  peaceful  life 
revealed.  But  at  heart  he  was  a  man's  man. 
He  hardly  perceived  life  from  a  woman's 
point  of  view;  and  in  the  long  evenings 
which  he  spent  with  these  women  he  some- 
times had  to  force  himself  to  appear  inter- 
ested in  their  conversation.  He  was  as  far 
removed  from  one  as  from  the  other.  Emily's 
wil fulness  puzzled  him,  and  he  did  not  seem 


VAIN  FORTUNE  143 

to  have  anything  further  to  talk  about  to  Mrs. 
Bentley. 

He  missed  the  bachelor  evenings  of  former 
days — the  whiskey  and  water,  the  pipes,  and 
the  literary  discussion  ;  and  as  the  days  went 
by  he  began  to  think  of  London  ;  his  thoughts 
turned  affectionately  towards  the  friends  he 
had  not  seen  for  so  long,  and  at  the  end  of 
July  he  announced  his  intention  of  running 
up  to  town  for  a  few  days.  So  one  morning 
breakfast  was  hurried  through ;  Emily  was 
sure  there  was  plenty  of  time ;  Hubert  looked 
at  the  clock  and  said  he  must  he  off ;  Julia 
ran  after  him  with  parcels  which  he  had 
forgotten ;  farewell  signs  were  waved  ;  the 
dog-cart  passed  out  of  sight,  and,  after  linger- 
ing a  moment,  the  women  returned  to  the 
drawing-room  thoughtfully. 

"  I  wonder  if  he'll  catch  the  train,"  said 
Emily,  without  taking  her  face  from  the 
window. 

"  I  hope  so ;  it  will  be  very  tiresome  for  him 
if  he  has  to  come  back.  There  isn't  another 
train  before  three  o'clock." 

"If  he  missed  this  train  he  wouldn't  go 
until  to-morrow  morning.  ...  I  wonder 
how  long  he'll  stay  away.  Supposing  some- 


144  VAIN  FORTUNE 

thing  happened  and  he  never  came  back." 
Emily  turned  round  and  looked  at  Julia  in 
dreamy  wonderment 

"Not  come  back  at  all?  What  nonsense 
you  are  talking,  Emily.  He  won't  be  away 
more  than  a  fortnight  or  three  weeks." 

"Three  weeks!  that  seems  a  very  long 
while.  How  shall  we  get  through  our  even- 
ings?" 

Emily  had  again  turned  towards  the  win- 
dow. Julia  did  not  trouble  to  reply.  She 
smiled  a  little,  as  she  paused  on  the  thresh- 
old, for  she  remembered  that  no  more  than 
a  few  weeks  ago  Emily  had  addressed  to  her 
passionate  speeches  declaring  her  to  be  her 
only  friend,  and  that  they  would  like  to  live 
together,  content  in  each  other's  companion- 
ship, always  ignoring  the  rest  of  the  world. 
Although  she  had  not  mistaken  these  speeches 
for  anything  more  than  the  nervous  passion 
of  a  moment,  the  suddenness  of  the  recantation 
surprised  her  a  little.  Three  or  four  days 
after,  the  girl  was  in  a  different  mood,  and 
when  they  came  into  the  drawing-room  after 
dinner  she  threw  her  arms  about  Julia's  neck, 
saying:  "Isn't  this  like  old  times?  Here  we 
are  living  all  alone  together,  and  I'm  not 


VAIN  FORTUNE  145 

boring   myself  a  bit      I   never  shall   have 
another  friend  like  you,  Julia." 

"  But  you'll  be  very  glad  when  Hubert 
comes  back." 

"There's  no  harm  in  that,  is  there?  I 
should  be  very  ungrateful  if  I  wasn't.  Think 
how  good  he  has  been  to  us.  ...  I'm  afraid 
you  don't  like  him,  Julia." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  do,  Emily." 

"Not  so  much  as  I  do."  And  raising  her- 
self— she  was  sitting  on  Julia's  knees — Emily 
looked  at  Julia. 

"  Perhaps  not,"  Julia  replied,  smiling ; 
"but  then  I  never  hated  him  as  much  as  you 
did." 

A  cloud  came  over  Emily's  face.  "  I  did 
hate  him,  didn't  I?  You  remember  that  first 
evening?  You  remember  when  you  came  up- 
stairs and  found  me  trembling  in  the  passage 
—I  was  afraid  to  go  to  bed.  ...  I  begged 
you  to  allow  me  to  sleep  with  you.  You 
remember  how  we  listened  for  his  footstep  in 
the  passage,  as  he  went  up  to  bed,  and  how  I 
clung  to  you.  Then  the  dreams  of  that  night. 
I  never  told  you  what  my  dreams  were,  but 
you  remember  how  I  woke  up  with  a  cry,  and 
you  asked  me  what  was  the  matter?  " 
10 


146  VAIN  FORTUNE 

"  Yes,  I  remember." 

"  I  dreamt  I  was  with  him  in  a  garden,  and 
was  trying  to  get  away ;  but  he  held  me  by  a 
single  hair,  and  the  hair  would  not  break. 
How  absurd  dreams  are!  And  the  garden 
was  full  of  flowers,  but  every  time  I  tried  to 
gather  them,  he  pulled  me  back  by  that 
single  hair.  I  don't  remember  any  more,  only 
something  about  running  wildly  away  from 
him,  and  losing  myself  in  a  dark  forest,  and 
there  the  ground  was  soft  like  a  bog,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  I  were  going  to  be  swallowed  up 
every  moment.  It  was  a  terrible  sensation. 
All  of  a  sudden  I  woke  with  a  cry.  The  room, 
was  gray  with-dawn,  and  you  said :  '  Emily 
dear,  what  have  you  been  dreaming  to  cry  out 
like  that  ? '  I  was  too  tired  and  frightened  to 
tell  you  much  about  my  dream,  and  next 
morning  I  had  forgotten  it.  I  did  not  re- 
member it  for  a  long  time  after,  but  all 
the  same  some  of  it  came  true.  Don't  you  re- 
member how  I  met  Hubert  next  morning  on 
the  lawn?  We  went  into  the  garden  and 
spent  the  best  part  of  the  morning  walking 
about  the  lake.'.  .  .  I  don't  know  if  I  told 
you — I  ran  away  when  I  heard  him  coming, 
and  should  have  got  away  had  it  not  been  for 


VAIN  FORTUNE  147 

this  tiresome  dog.  He  called  after  me,  using 
my  Christian  name.  I  was  so  angry  I  think  I 
hated  him  then  more  than  ever.  We  walked 
a  little  way,  and  the  next  thing  I  remember  was 
thinking  how  nice  he  was.  I  don't  know  how 
it  all  happened.  Now  I  think  of  it,  it  seems 
like  magic.  It  was  the  day  that  my  old 
donkey  ran  away  with  the  mowing  machine 
and  broke  the  flower  vase,  the  dear  old  thing; 
we  had  a  long  talk  about  'Jack.'  And  then 
I  took  Hubert  into  the  garden  and  showed 
him  the  flowers.  I  don't  think  he  cares  much 
about  flowers ;  he  pretended,  but  I  could  see  it 
was  only  to  please  me.  Then  I  knew  that 
he  liked  me,  for  when  I  told  him  I  was  going 
to  feed  the  swans  he  said  he  loved  swans  and 
begged  to  be  allowed  to  come  too.  I  don't 
think  a  man  would  say  that  if  he  didn't  like 
you,  do  you  ?  " 

Emily's  mind  seemed  to  contain  nothing 
but  memories  of  Hubert  What  he  had  said 
on  this  occasion,  how  he  had  looked  at  her  on 
another.  A  wheel  of  fortune  painted  with 
the  trivial  and  ordinary  events  of  three  weeks 
in  a  country  house !  And  though  the  same 
events  came  up  again  and  again,  Emily  never 
wearied,  for  every  turn  brought  up  a  winning 


148  VAIN  FORTUNE 

number.  The  conversation  paused,  Emily 
sunned  herself  in  the  enchantment  of  recol- 
lection, until  at  last  breaking  forth  again,  she 
said: 

"Have  you  noticed  how  Ethel  Eastwick 
goes  after  him?  And  the  odd  part  of  it  is 
that  she  can't  see  that  he  dislikes  her.  He 
thinks  nothing  of  her  singing ;  he  remained 
talking  to  me  in  the  conservatory  the  whole 
time.  I  asked  him  to  come  into  the  drawing- 
room,  but  he  pretended  to  misunderstand  me, 
and  asked  me  if  I  felt  a  draught.  He  said : 
'Let  me  get  you  a  shawl.'  I  said  :  'I  assure 
you,  Hubert,  I  don't  feel  any  draught.'  But 
he  would  not  believe  me,  and  said  he  could  not 
allow  me  to  sit  there  without  something  on 
my  shoulders.  I  begged  of  him  not  to  move, 
for  I  knew  that  Ethel  would  never  forgive 
me  if  I  interrupted  her  singing ;  but  he  said 
he  could  get  me  a  wrap  without  interrupting 
any  one.  He  opened  the  conservatory  door, 
ran  across  the  lawn  round  to  the  front  door, 
and  came  back  with — what  do  you  think? 
With  two  wraps  instead  of  one;  one  was 
mine,  and  the  other  belonged  to— I  don't  know 
who  it  belonged  to.  So  I  said:  'Oh,  what 
ever  shall  we  do?  I  cannot  let  you  go  back 


VAIN  FORTUNE  149 

again.  If  any  one  was  to  come  in  and  find 
me  alone,  whatever  would  they  think ! '  Hu- 
bert said :  '  Will  you  come  with  me ?  A  walk 
in  the  garden  will  be  pleasanter  than  sitting 
in  the  conservatory.'  I  didn't  like  going  at 
first,  but  I  thought  there  couldn't  be  much 
harm." 

The  conversation  paused,  and,  tremulous 
with  desire  to  tell,  the  girl  asked  herself  if 
she  should  tell  the  story  of  her  moonlight 
walk.  But  Julia  expressed  no  curiosity  on 
the  point,  and  in  the  silence  of  the  drawing- 
room,  the  girl  re-lived  in  feverish  imagination 
that  hour  of  enchanted  life,  seeing  as  in  the 
mirror  of  her  dream  all  the  witchery  of  the 
garden's  light  and  shade,  and  all  the  glittering 
slopes  of  the  skies.  She  saw  again  the  noc- 
turnal garden,  with  here  and  there  a  tall  lily 
sleeping  in  the  stream  of  blue  light  that  flowed 
down  from  the  moon  that  soared  above  the 
tiled  house;  the  piano  tinkled  behind  the  pale 
yellow  windows,  and  as  they  passed  some- 
times a  petal  fell  from  an  exhausted  rose. 
They  wandered  from  sward  to  sward,  through 
the  shadowy  paths  that  wound  about  that 
nocturnal  garden,  until,  at  the  end  of  their 
path,  out  of  the  waning  skies  there  appeared 


150  VAIN  FORTUNE 

a  star  inexpressibly  beautiful.  It  lay  low 
down  in  the  skies  at  the  end  of  the  vista, 
sparkling  like  a  diamond  just  fallen  from  the 
forehead  of  some  great  god.  Hubert  and 
Emily  stood  in  a  solitary  dell ;  Emily  was 
frightened,  so  awful  did  the  night  seem,  and 
when  they  came  to  a  place  where  the  gravel 
path  was  strange  with  the  shadows  falling 
from  the  branches  of  a  decayed  tree,  the  girl 
grew  frightened  and  begged  Hubert  to  take 
her  back.  But  he  laughed  her  out  of  her 
fears ;  he  told  her  that  the  star  was  Astarte ; 
he  tempted  her  out  of  her  scruples,  and  in- 
duced her  to  walk  across  the  little  bridge. 
And  standing  by  the  wicket,  they  talked  about 
the  blazing  star  and  many  other  things.  She 
did  not  know  how  long  they  talked,  but  she 
remembered  that  he  had  repeated  part  of  a 
sad  poem,  beautiful  to  her,  though  she  did 
not  understand  it.  But  with  her  face  raised 
to  his,  her  eyes  shining  in  the  darkness,  she 
had  listened  to  the  explanation,  which  had 
seemed  more  beautiful  than  the  poem.  And 
as  she  now  sat  with  Julia  in  the  old,  faded 
drawing-room,  she  thought  of  the  lovers  who 
had  been  led  by  that  very  star  through  lotag, 
hollow  .-woods,  till  they  were  stopped  by  the 


VAIN  FORTUNE  151 

door  of  a  tomb,  on  which  was  written  the 
name  of  the  dead  sweetheart — the  girl  whose 
body  he  had  brought  down  by  night  and  laid 
there,  in  the  month  of  October,  only  a  year 
ago.  It  seemed  to  Emily  very  terrible  and' 
very  wonderful,  and  she  experienced  through- 
out her  numbed  sense  a  strange,  thrilling 
pain,  akin  to  joy,  and  she  sat,  her  little,  fragile 
form  lost  in  the  arm-chair,  her  great  eyes  fixed 
in  ecstasy,  seeing  still  the  dark  garden  with 
the  great  star  risen  like  a  phantom  above  the 
trees.  That  evening  had  been  to  her  a  wonder 
and  an  enchantment,  and  her  pausing  thoughts 
dwelt  on  the  moment  when  the  distant  sound 
of  a  bell  reached  their  ears,  and  the  bell  came 
nearer,  clanging  fiercely  in  the  sonorous  garden. 
Then  they  saw  a  light — some  one  had  come 
for  them  with  a  lantern — a  joke,  a  suitable 
pleasantry,  and  amid  joyous  laughter,  watch- 
ing the  setting  moon,  they  had  gone  back  to 
the  tiled  house,  where  dancers  still  passed  the 
white-curtained  windows.  Hubert  had  sat  by 
her  at  supper,  serving  her  with  meat  and 
drink.  In  the  sway  of  memory  she  trembled 
and  started,  looking  in  the  great  arm-chair 
like  a  little  bird  that  the  moon  keeps  awake 
in  its  soft  nest.  She  no  longer  wished  to  tell 


152  VAIN  FORTUNE 

Julia  of  that  night  in  the  garden ;  her  sensa- 
tion of  it  lay  far  beyond  words ;  it  was  her 
secret,  and  it  shone  through  her  dreamy  youth 
even  as  the  star  had  shone  through  the  heav- 
"ens  that  night.  Suddenly  she  said : 

"  I  wonder  what  Hubert  is  doing  in  Lon- 
don ?  I  wonder  where  he  is  now  ?  " 

"  Now  ?  It  is  just  nine.  I  suppose  he's  in 
some  theatre." 

"  I  suppose  he  goes  a  great  deal  to  the  the- 
atre. I  wonder  who  he  goes  with.  He  has 
lots  of  friends  in  London — actresses,  I  suppose ; 
he  knows  them  who  play  in  his  plays.  He 
dines  at  his  club " 

"  Or  at  a  restaurant." 

"  I  wonder  what  a  restaurant  is  like  ;  ladies 
dine  at  restaurants,  don^t  they  ?  " 

As  Julia  was  about  to  make  reply,  the  ser- 
vant brought  her  a  letter.  She  opened  the 
envelope,  and  took  out  a  long,  closely-written 
letter;  she  turned  it  over  to  see  the  signa- 
ture, and  then  looking  toward  Emily,  she  said, 
with  a  pleasant  smile  : 

"  Now  I  shall  be  able  to  answer  your  ques- 
tions better ;  this  letter  is  from  Mr.  Price." 

"  Oh,  what  does  he  say?     Read  it." 

"  Wait  a  moment,  let  me  glance  through  it 


VAIN  FORTUNE  153 

first ;  it  is  very  difficult  to  read."  A  few  mo- 
ments after,  Julia  said :  "  There's  not  much 
that  would  interest  you  in  the  letter,  Emily  ; 
it  is  all  about  his  play.  He  says  he  would 
have  written  before  if  he  had  not  been  so  busy 
looking  out  for  a  theatre,  and  engaging  actors 
and  actresses.  He  hopes  to  start  rehearsing 
next  week. 

"  '  1  say  1  hope,  because  there  are  still  some  parts  of 
the  play  which  do  not  satisfy  me,  particularly  the  third 
act.  I  intend  to  work  steadily  on  the  play  till  next 
Thursday,  five  or  six  hours  every  day ;  I  am  in  perfect 
health  and  spirits,  and  ought  to  be  able  to  get  the  thing 
right.  Should  I  fail  to  satisfy  myself,  or  should  any 
further  faults  appear  when  we  begin  to  rehearse  the 
piece,  I  shall  dismiss  my  people,  pack  up  my  traps,  and 
return  to  Ashwood.  There  I  shall  have  quiet  ;  here, 
people  are  continually  knocking  at  my  door,  and  I  can- 
not deny  my  friends  the  pleasure  of  seeing  me,  if  that 
is  a  pleasure.  But  at  Ashwood,  as  I  say,  I  shall  be  sure 
of  quiet,  and  can  easily  finish  the  play  this  autumn,  and 
February  is  a  better  time  than  September  to  produce  a 
play.' 

"Then  he  goes  on,"  said  Julia,  "to  explain 
the  alterations  he  contemplates  making. 
There's  no  use  reading  you  all  that." 

"  I  suppose  you  think  I  should  not  under- 
stand." 


164  VAIN  FORTUNE 

"  My  dear  Emily,  if  you  want  to  read  the 
letter,  there  it  is." 

"  I  don't  want  to  see  your  letter." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Emily  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  only  I  think  it  rather  strange 
that  he  didn't  write  to  me." 

Some  days  after,  Emily  took  up  the  book 
that  Julia  had  laid  down.  "  '  Shakespeare's 
Plays.'  I  suppose  you  are  reading  them  so 
that  you'll  be  able  to  talk  to  him  better." 

"I  never  thought  of  such  a  thing,  Emily." 
At  the  end  of  a  long  silence  Emily  said  : 

"Do  you  think  clever  men  like  clever 
women  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  Some  say  they  do,  some 
say  they  don't  I  believe  that  really  clever 
men,  men  of  genius,  don't." 

u  I  wonder  if  Hubert  is  a  man  of  genius. 
What  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  I  really  am  not  capable  of  expressing  an 
opinion  on  the  matter." 

Another  week  passed  away,  and  Emily 
began  to  assume  an  air  of  languor  and  timid 
yearning.  One  day  she  said  : 

"I  wonder  he  doesn't  write.  He  hasn't 
answered  my  letter  yet.  Has  be  answered 
yours  ?  " 


VAIN  FORTUNE  155 

"  He  has  not  written  to  me  again.  He 
hasn't  time  for  letter-writing.  He  is  working 
night  and  day  at  his  play." 

"I  suppose  he'd  never  think  of  coming 
down  by  the  morning  train.  He'd  be  sure  to 
come  by  the  five  o'clock." 

"  He  won't  come  without  writing.  He'd 
be  sure  to  write  for  the  dog-cart." 

"  I  suppose  so.  There's  no  use  in  looking 
out  for  him." 

But,  notwithstanding  her  certitude  on  the 
point,  Emily  could  not  help  choosing  five 
o'clock  as  the  time  for  a  walk,  and  Julia 
noticed  that  the  girl's  feet  seemed  to  turn 
instinctively  towards  the  lodge.  Often  she 
would  leave  the  flowers  she  was  tending  on 
the  terrace,  and  stand  looking  through  the 
dim,  sun-smitten  landscape  toward  the  red- 
brown  spot  which  was  South  Water,  in  the 
middle  of  the  long  plain. 


CHAPTER  X. 

ONE  day  a  short  letter  came  from  Hubert, 
asking  Mrs.  Bentley  to  send  the  dog-cart  to 
the  station  to  fetch  him.  He  had  decided  to 
come  home  at  once,  and  postpone  the  produc- 
tion of  his  play  till  the  coming  spring. 

Every  rehearsal  had  revealed  new  and 
serious  faults  of  construction.  These  he  had 
attempted  to  remove  when  he  went  home  in 
the  evening,  but  though  he  often  worked  till 
daybreak,  he  did  not  achieve  much.  The 
very  knowledge  that  he  must  come  to  rehearsal 
with  the  rewritten  scene  seemed  to  produce 
in  hirn  a  sort  of  mental  paralysis,  and,  strik- 
ing the  table  with  his  fist,  he  would  get  up, 
and  a  thought  would  cross  his  mind  of  how 
he  might  escape  from  this  torture.  After  one 
terrible  night,  in  which  he  feared  his  brain 
was  really  giving  way,  he  went  down  to  .the 
theatre  and  dismissed  the  company,  for  he 
had  resolved  to  return  to  Ashwood  and  spend 
another  autumn  and  another  winter  rewriting 
"The  Gipsy."  If  it  did  not  come  right  then, 


VAIN  FORTUNE  157 

he  would  bother  no  more  about  it.  Why 
should  he?  There  was  so  much  else  in  life 
besides  literature.  He  had  plenty  of  money, 
and  was  determined  in  any  case  to  enjoy  him- 
self. So  did  his  thoughts  run  as  he  leaned 
back  on  the  cushions  of  a  first-class  carriage, 
glancing  casually  through  the  evening  paper. 
Presently  his  eye  was  caught  by  a  paragraph 
narrating  an  odd  calamity  which  had  over- 
taken a  scene  carpenter,  an  honest,  respectable, 
sober,  hard-working  man,  who  had  fulfilled 
all  social  obligations  as  perfectly  as  the  most 
exacting  could  desire,  until  the  day  he  con- 
ceived the  idea  of  a  machine  for  the  better 
exhibition  of  advertisements  on  the  hoardings. 
His  system  was  based  on  the  roller  towel. 
The  roller  was  moved  by  clockwork,  and  the 
advertisements  went  round  like  the  towel. 
At  first  he  spent  his  spare  time  and  his  spare 
money  upon  it,  but  as  the  hobby  took  posses- 
sion of  him,  he  devoted  all  his  time  and  all 
his  money  to  it ;  then  he  pawned  his  clothes, 
and  then  he  raised  money  on  the  furniture ; 
the  brokers  came  in,  and  finally  the  poor 
fellow  was  taken  to  a  lunatic  asylum,  and  his 
wife  and  family  were  thrown  on  the  parish. 
The  story  impressed  Hubert  strangely.  He 


158  VAIN  FORTUNE 

saw  an  analogy  between  himself  and  the  crazy 
inventor,  and  he  asked  himself  if  he  would  go 
on  rewriting  "  The  Gipsy  "  until  he  went  out 
of  his  mind.  "  Even  if  I  do,"  he  thought,  "  I 
can  hurt  no  one  but  myself.  No  one  else  is 
dependent  on  me  ;  my  hobby  can  hurt  no  pne 
but  myself."  These  forebodings  passed  away, 
and  his  mind  filled  up  with  schemes  of  work. 
He  knew  exactly  what  he  wanted  to  do,  and 
he  looked  forward  to  doing  it.  He  wanted 
quiet,  he  wanted  long  days  alone  with  himself. 
Such  were  his  thoughts  in  the  dog-cart  as  he 
drove  home,  and  it  was  therefore  vaguely 
unpleasant  to  him  to  meet  the  two  ladies 
waiting  for  him  at  the  lodge  gate.  Their 
smiles  of  welcome  irritated  him;  he  longed 
for  the  solitude  of  his  study,  the  companion- 
ship of  his  work  ;  and  instead  he  had  to  sit 
with  them  in  the  drawing-room,  and  tell 
them  how  he  liked  London,  what  he  had  done 
there, whom  he  had  seen  there,  and  why  he  had 
been  unable  to  finish  his  play  to  his  satisfac- 
tion. 

In  the  morning  Emily  or  Mrs.  Bentley  was 
generally  about  to  pour  out  his  coffee  for  him 
and  keep  him  company.  One  day  Hubert 
noticed  that  it  was  no  longer  Mrs.  Bentley  but 


VAIN  FORTUNE  159 

Emily  who  met  him  i  n  the  passage  and  followed 
him  into  the  dining-room.  And  while  he  was 
eating  she  sat  with  her  feet  on  the  fender,  talk- 
ing of  some  girls  in  the  neighborhood — their 
jealousies,  and  how  Edith  Eastwick  could  not 
think  of  anything  for  herself,  but  always 
copied  her  dresses.  Dandy  drowsed  at  her 
feet,  and  very  often  she  would  take  him 
to  the  window  and  make  him  go  through 
all  his  tricks,  calling  on  Hubert  to  admire 
him. 

She  had  a  knack  of  monopolizing  Hubert, 
and  since  his  return  from  London  her  desire 
to  do  so  had  become  almost  a  determination. 
Hubert  showed  no  disinclination,  and  after 
breakfast  they  were  to  be  seen  together  in  the 
gardens.  Hubert  was  a  great  catch,  and  there 
were  other  young  ladies  eager  to  be  agreeable 
to  him ;  but  he  did  not  seem  to  desire  flirta- 
tion with  any.  So  they  came  to  speak  of  him 
as  a  very  clever  man,  no  doubt ;  but  as  they 
knew  nothing  about  plays,  he  very^  probably 
did  not  care  to  talk  to  them.  Hubert  was 
not  attractive  in  general  society,  and  he  would 
soon  have  failed  to  interest  them  at  all  had  it 
not  been  for  Emily.  She  was  proud  of  her 
influence  over  him,  and  for  the  first  time 


160  VAIN  FORTUNE 

showed  a  desire  to  go  into  society.  Day  by 
day  her  conversation  turned  more  and  more 
on  tennis  parties,  and  she  even  spoke  about  a 
ball.  He  consented  to  take  her  ;  and  he  had 
to  dance  with  her,  and  she  refused  nearly 
every  one,  saying  she  was  tired,  leading  Hu- 
bert away  for  long  conversations  in  the  gal- 
leries and  on  the  staircases.  Hubert  had  pos- 
itively nothing  to  say  to  her  ;  but  she  seemed 
quite  happy  as  long  as  she  was  with  him. 
And  as  they  drove  through  the  dawn  Emily 
chattered  of  a  hundred  trifles — what  Edith 
had  said,  what  Mabel  wore,  of  the  possibility 
of  a  marriage,  and  the  arrival  of  a  detachment 
of  some  cavalry  regiment.  Hubert  found  it 
hard  to  affect  interest  in  these  conversations. 
His  brain  was  weary  with  waltz  tunes,  the 
shape  of  shoulders,  and  the  glare  and  rustle 
of  silk;  but  as  she  chattered,  rubbing  the 
misted  windows  from  time  to  time,  so  as  to 
determine  how  far  they  were  from  home,  he 
wondered  if  he  should  ever  marry,  and  half 
playfully  he  thought  of  her  as  his  wife.  He 
allowed  vague  dreams  to  linger — dreams  of 
Italy,  pictures,  terraces,  and  wonderful  moon- 
lit nights.  He  was  the  hero  of  his  imagin- 
ings ;  and  his  companion,  a  pale,  translucid 


VAIN  FORTUNE  161 

girl,  stood  by  him  on  the  shore  of  a  pale, 
translucid  laka 

But  without  warning  his  dreams  were 
broken  by  a  sudden  thought,  and  he  said : 

"Another  time,  I  think  it  will  be  better, 
my  dear  Emily,  that  Mrs.  Bentley  should  take 
you  out." 

"  Why  should  you  not  take  me  out?  .  .  . 
I  suppose  you  don't  care  to — I  bore  you." 

"  No  ;  on  the  contrary,  I  enjoy  it — I  like  to 
see  you  amused ;  but  I  think  you  should  have 
a  proper  chaperon." 

Emily  did  not  answer ;  and  a  little  cloud 
came  over  her  face.  Hubert  thought  she 
looked  even  prettier  in  her  displeasure  than 
she  had  done  in  her  joy  ;  and  he  went  to  sleep 
thinking  of  her.  Never  had  he  thought  her 
so  beautiful — never  had  she  touched  him  with 
so  personal  an  interest ;  and  next  morning, 
when  he  lounged  in  his  study,  he  was  glad 
to  hear  her  knock  at  the  door ;  and  the  half- 
hour  he  spent  with  her  there,  yielding  to  her 
pleading  to  come  for  a  walk  with  her,  or  drive 
her  over  to  South  Water  in  the  dog-cart,  was 
one  of  unalloyed  pleasure.  But  a  few  days 
after,  as  he  lay  in  bed,  a  new  idea  came  to  him 
for  his  third  act.  So  he  had  said  he  would 
11 


162  VAIN  FORTUNE 

have  breakfast  in  his  study.  He  dressed, 
thinking  the  whole  time  how  he  could  round 
off  his  idea  and  bring  it  into  the  act.  So  clear 
and  precise  did  it  seem  in  his  mind  that  he  sat 
down  immediately  after  breakfast,  forgetting 
even  his  matutinal  cigar,  and  wrote  with  a 
flowing  "pen.  He  had  left  orders  that  he  was 
not  to  be  disturbed ;  and  was  annoyed  when 
the  door  opened  and  Emily  entered. 

"I  am  very  sorry,  but  you  must  not  be 
cross  with  me ;  I  do  so  want  you  to  come  and 
see  the  Bastwicks  with  me." 

"My  dear  Emily,  I  could  not  think  of  such 
a  thing  this  morning.  I  am  very  busy — in- 
deed I  am." 

"What  are  you  doing?  Nothing  very 
important,  I  can  see.  You  are  only  writing 
your  play.  You  might  come  with  me." 

"  My  play  is  as  important  to  me  as  a  visit 
to  the  Eastwicks  is  to  you,"  he  answered, 
smiling. 

"  I  have  promised  Edith.  ...  I  really  do 
wish  you  would  come." 

"  My  dear  Emily,  it  is  quite  impossible :  do 
let  me  get  on  with  my  work  !  " 

Emily's  face  instantly  changed  expression ; 
she  turned  to  leave  the  room,  and  Hubert 


VAIN  FORTUNE  163 

had  to  go  after  her  and  beg  her  to  forgive 
him — he  really  had  not  meant  to  be  rude  to 
her.  When  he  returned  to  his  study,  having 
made  his  peace  with  her,  he  sat  down  at  his 
writing-table,  and  he  noticed  with  delight  that 
the  interruption  had  not  broken  the  sequence 
of  his  thoughts.  He  wrote  on  for  some  hours, 
rested,  and  then  returned  refreshed  and  ardent 
to  his  work ;  and  it  was  not  till  four  o'clock 
that  he  had  exhausted  himself,  feeling  he  had 
done  enough  for  the  day. 

He  lit  a  cigar,  and  threw  himself  into  his 
arm-chair,  happy  in  the  sensation  of  accom- 
plishment. Never  had  he  written  so  fluently 
before — only  a  shadow  of  a  doubt  lingered  ; 
and  he  felt  sure  of  being  able  to  achieve  his 
play  in  exactly  the  manner  he  had  intended ; 
he  even  thought  it  likely  that  he  would  ex- 
ceed his  ideal.  And  as  he  blew  the  fragrant 
smoke  from  his  lips  his  happiness  grew  irre- 
sponsible— bird-like  in  a  new  sense  of  wings , 
and,  like  a  bird  in  a  warm  June  garden,  his 
soul  wandered  through  a  fair  region  of  fancy, 
and  everywhere  through  the  sweet  air  came 
intoxicating  odors  of  ultimate  success. 

Vague  and  fugitive  remembrance  of  the 
literature  of  all  ages  passed  through  his  mind, 


164  VAIN  FORTUNE 

and  he  was  astonished  at  how  little  had  been 
done.  Infinite  possibilities  seemed  to  open 
up  before  him,  and  he  only  asked  for  time 
and  health  to  achieve  an  entirely  new  litera- 
ture— dramas  peopled  with  human  souls, 
strangely  true,  intense,  subtle,  and  strong! 
.  .  .  He  analyzed  masterpiece  after  master- 
piece, finding  all  defective.  "Romeo  and 
Juliet  "  was  only  a  love-song ;  "  Hamlet  " 
ought  to  have  ended  with  a  philosophic  sui- 
cide, and  not  in  a  series  of  turbulent  assassina- 
tions. But  Shakespeare  only  wrote  poetic 
romances,  and  could  hardly  be  said  to  come 
into  the  present  argument.  The  comedies  of 
the  Restoration  ?  Courtly  intrigues — nothing 
more.  Sheridan  had  produced — well,  one 
admirable  piece  of  work ;  after  him,  no  one. 
Ibsen  ?  A  man  of  talent,  too  didactic,  too 
small,  too  curtailed  in  rhythm,  and  generally 
his  plays  were  disfigured  by  stage  devices  of 
the  most  threadbare  kind.  It  really  was  sur- 
prising how  little  had  been  done.  Then  a 
little  giddiness  came  into  his  brain,  and  the 
dramatic  literature  of  the  world  seemed  paltry, 
a  mere  plot  of  kitchen -garden.  But  "The 
Gipsy"?  This  play  seemed  to  him  to  unite 
all  qualities  in  one  perfect  whole.  It  was 


VAIN  FORTUNE  165 

realistic,  romantic,  psychological.  And  the 
story  ?  Surely  it  would  be  difficult  to  invent 
a  finer  one. 

Overcome  with  self,  he  pitied  the  toilers 
whom  the  want  of  a  little  money  never  allows 
to  realize  the  high  ideals  that  haunt  their  souls. 
They  must  remain  unknown ;  but  he  was  a 
great  man — he  could  hear  his  own  heart  sing- 
ing the  words,  "  A  great  man ; "  and  he  felt 
strangely  happy — strangely  at  rest — strangely 
at  harmony  with  his  surroundings — strangely 
thankful  for  all  that  fate  had  done  for  him. 
Why  should  he  do  anything  to  change  the 
blissful  present?  That  silly  little  girl  who 
put  her  visit  to  the  Eastwicks  before  his  play ! 
Marry !  Why  should  he  marry  ?  He  would 
like  to  marry ;  but  perchance  bachelorhood 
was  the  natural  state  of  the  artist.  Were 
he  her  husband  he'd  have  to  escort  her  to 
balls  and  parties !  .  .  .  That  idiotic  ball ! 
She  was  a  pretty  and  charming  little  thing, 
but  quite  incapable  of  understanding  him. 
No ;  he  did  not  think  he  would  ever  marry. 

Then  another  set  of  thoughts  came  upon 
him.  He  grew  rapidly  aware  of  a  number 
of  things  he  had  not  noticed  before.  He 
remembered  how  his  neighbors,  whenever  he 


166  VAJN  FORTUNE 

met  them,  always  asked  after  Emily,  and  the 
looks  that  were  exchanged  when  they  arrived 
together  at  tennis  parties.  His  conscience 
smote  him,  and  he  asked  himself  if  he  had 
done  anything  to  encourage — ?  Surely  not. 

He  hoped  that  her  manifest  interest  in  him 
was  of  a  fleeting  kind — the  first  ephemeral 
love  of  a  young  girl ;  and  in  this  hope  he  bore 
with  her  visits.  He  could  not  forbid  her  his 
study,  and  he  could  not  always  refuse  her  his 
company.  Sometimes  he  took  refuge  in  Mrs. 
Bentley's  society  ;  but  this  expedient  was  not 
very  successful.  Mrs.  Bentley  seemed  to 
avoid  him  ;  and  Emily,  who  seemed  to  divine 
all  that  concerned  him  with  a  strange  in- 
tuition, alluded  frankly  to  her  inability  to 
acquire  interest  in  anything  outside  of  the 
little  material  circle  of  their  lives.  She  said : 

"  You  don't  care  to  talk  to  me.  I  am  not 
clever  enough  for  you." 

Then  pity  took  him,  and  he  made  amends 
by  suggesting  they  should  go  for  a  walk  in 
the  park,  and  she  often  succeeded  in  leading 
him  even  to  dry,  uninteresting  neighbors. 
But  the  burden  grew  heavier,  and  soon  he 
could  endure  no  longer  the  evenings  of  devo- 
tion to  her  in  the  drawing-room,  where  the 


VAIN  FORTUNE  167 

presence  of  Mrs.  Bentley  seemed  to  fill  her 
with  incipient  rebellion.  One  evening  after 
dinner,  as  he  was  about  to  escape  up-stairs, 
Emily  took  his  arm,  pleading  that  he  should 
play  at  least  one  game  of  backgammon  with 
her.  He  played  three ;  and  then  thinking  he 
had  done  enough,  he  took  up  a  novel  and 
began  to  read.  Emily  was  bitterly  offended. 
She  sat  in  a  corner,  a  picture  of  deep  misery; 
aud  whenever  he  spoke  to  Mrs.  Bentley,  he 
thought  she  would  burst  into  tears.  It  was 
exasperating  to  be  the  perpetual  victim  of 
such  folly,  and,  pressed  by  the  desire  to  talk 
to  Mrs.  Bentley  about  the  book  he  was  read- 
ing, he  suggested  that  she  should  come  with 
him  to  the  meet.  The  harriers  met  for  the 
first  time  that  season  at  not  five  miles  from 
Ashwood.  Mrs.  Bentley  pleaded  an  engage- 
ment. She  had  promised  to  go  over  to  tea  at 
the  rectory. 

"  Oh,  we  shall  be  back  in  plenty  of  time.  I'll 
leave  you  at  the  rectory  on  our  way  home." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Price ;  but  I  do  not 
think  I  can  go." 

"  And  why,  may  I  ask  ?  " 

"Well,  perhaps  Emily  would  like  to  go." 

"Emily  has  a  cold,  and  it  would  be  folly 


168  VAIN  FORTUNE 

of  her  to  venture  a  long  drive  on  a  cold 
morning." 

"  My  cold  is  quite  well." 

"  You  were  complaining  before  dinner  how 
bad  it  was." 

"  If  you  don't  want  to  take  me,  say  so/' 
Tears  were  now  streaming  down  her  cheeks. 

"  My  dear  Emily,  I  am  only  too  pleased 
to  have  you  with  me;  I  was  only  thinking 
of  your  cold." 

"My  cold  is  quite  gone,"  she  said,  with 
brightening  face.  And  next  morning  she  came 
down  with  her  waterproof  on  her  arm,  and 
she  had  on  a  new  cloth  dress  which  she  had 
just  received  from  London.  Hubert  recog- 
nized in  each  article  of  attire  a  sign  that  she 
was  determined  to  carry  her  point  It  seemed 
cruel  to  tell  her  to  take  her  things  off,  and  he 
glanced  at  Mrs.  Bentley  and  wondered  if  she 
were  offended. 

"  I  hope  the  drive  won't  tire  you ;  you 
know  the  meet  is  at  least  five  miles  from 
here." 

Emily  did  not  answer.  She  looked  charm- 
ing with  her  great  boa  tied  about  her  throat, 
and  sprang  into  the  dog-cart  all  lightness  and 


VAIN  FORTUNE  169 

"  I  hope  you  are  well  wrapped  up  about  the 
knees,"  said  Mrs.  Bentley. 

"  Oh,  yes,  thank  you ;  Hubert  is  looking 
after  me." 

Mrs.  Bentley's  calm,  statuesque  face,  where- 
on no  trace  of  envy  appeared,  caught  Hubert's 
attention  as  he  gathered  up  the  reins,  and  he 
thought  how  her  altruism  contrasted  with  the 
passionate  egotism  of  the  young  girl. 

"I  hope  Julia  was  not  disappointed.  I 
know  she  wanted  to  come ;  but " 

"But  what?" 

"  Well,  no  one  likes  Julia  more  than  I  do, 
and  I  don't  want  to  say  anything  against  her ; 
but,  having  lived  so  long  with  her,  I  see  her 
faults  better  than  you  can.  She  is  horribly 
selfish !  It  never  occurs  to  her  to  think  of 
ma" 

Hubert  did  not  answer,  and  Emily  looked 
at  him  inquiringly.  At  last  she  said :  "  I 
suppose  you  don't  think  so?  " 

"  Well,  Emily,  since  you  ask  me,  I  must 
say  that  I  think  she  took  it  very  good-humor- 
edly.  You  said  you  were  ill,  and  it  was  all 
arranged  that  I  should  drive  her  to  the  meet ; 
then  you  suddenly  interposed,  and  said  you 
wanted  to  go ;  and  the  moment  you  mentioned 


170  VAIN  FORTUNE 

your  desire  to  go,  she  gave  way  without  a 
word.  I  really  don't  know  what  more  you 
want" 

"  You  don't  know  Julia.  You  cannot  read 
her  face.  She  never  forgets  anything,  and  is 
storing  it  up,  and  will  pay  me  out  for  it 
sooner  or  later." 

"  My  dear  Emily,  how  can  you  say  such 
things !  I  never  heard —  She  is  always  ready 
to  sacrifice  herself  for  you." 

"  You  think  so.  She  has  a  knack  of  pre- 
tending to  be  more  unselfish  than  another; 
but  she  is  in  reality  intensely  selfish." 

"  All  I  can  say  is  that  it  does  not  strike  me 
so.  I  never  saw  any  one  give  way  more  good- 
humoredly  than  she  did  to-day." 

"I  don't  think  that  that  is  so  wonderful, 
after  all.  She  is  only  a  paid  companion  ;  and 
I  do  not  see  why  she  should  go  driving  about 
the  country  with  you,  and  I  be  left  at  home." 

Hubert  was  somewhat  shocked.  The  con- 
versation paused. 

"She  gets  on  very  well  with  men,"  Emily 
said  at  last,  breaking  an  irritating  silence 
somewhat  suddenly.  "  They  say  she  is  very 
good-looking.  Don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  she  is  certainly  a  pretty  woman — 


VAIN  FORTUNE  171 

or,  I  should  say,  a  good-looking  woman.  She 
is  too  tall  to  be  what  one  generally  under- 
stands as  a  pretty  woman." 

"  Do  you  like  tall  women  ?  " 

At  that  moment  the  hunt  appeared  in  the 
field  at  the  bottom  of  the  hill.  A  gray  horse 
had  just  got  rid  of  his  rider,  and  after  gallop- 
ing round  and  round,  his  head  in  the  air, 
stopped  and  began  to  graze.  The  others 
jumped  the  hedge,  and  the  greater  part  of  the 
field  got  over  the  brook  in  capital  style. 
Emily  and  Hubert  watched  them  with  de- 
lighted eyes,  for  the  sight  was  indeed  pict- 
uresque this  fine  autumn  day.  Even  their 
horse  pricked  up  his  ears  and  began  neighing, 
and  Hubert* had  to  hold  him  tight  in  hand, 
lest  he  should  break  away  while  they  were 
enjoying  the  spectacle.  At  that  moment  a 
poor  little  animal,  with  fear-haunted  eyes,  and 
in  all  the  agony  of  fatigue,  appeared  above 
the  crest  of  the  hill,  and  immediately  after 
came  the  straining  hounds,  one  within  a  dozen 
yards  of  the  poor  little  beast,  now  running  in 
a  circle,  uttering  the  most  plaintive  and  piti- 
ful cries. 

"  Oh,  they  are  not  going  to  kill  it !  "  cried 
Emily.  "  Oh,  save  it,  save  it,  Hubert ! "  She 


172  VAIN  FORTUNE 

hid  her  face  in  her  hands.  "Did  it  escape? 
is  it  killed?  "  she  said,  looking  round.  "  Oh, 
it  is  too  cruel ! "  The  huntsman  was  calling 
to  the  hounds,  holding  something  above  them, 
and  at  every  moment  horses'  heads  appeared 
over  the  brow  of  the  hill. 

There  was  more  hunting;  and  when  the 
October  night  began  to  gather,  and  the  lurid 
sunset  flared  up  in  the  west,  Hubert  got  out 
another  wrap,  and  placed  it  about  Emily's 
shoulders.  But  although  the  chill  night  had 
drawn  them  close  together  in  the  dog-cart, 
they  were  as  widely  separated  as  if  oceans 
were  between  them.  So  far  as  lay  in  his 
power  he  had  hidden  the  annoyance  that  the 
intrusion  of  her  society  had  occasioned  him  ; 
and,  to  deceive  her,  very  little  concealment 
was  necessary.  So  long  as  she  saw  him  she 
seemed  to  live  in  a  dream,  unconscious  of 
every  other  thought. 

They  rolled  through  a  gradual  effacement 
of  things,  seeing  the  lights  of  the  farm-houses 
in  the  long  plain  start  into  existence,  and 
then  remain  fixed,  like  gold  beetles  pinned  on 
a  blue  curtain.  The  chill  evening  drew  her 
to  him,  till  they  seemed  one;  and  full  of  the 
intimate  happiness  of  the  senses  which  comes 


VAIN  FORTUNE  173 

of  a  long  day  spent  in  the  open  air,  -she  chat- 
tered of  indifferent  things.  He  thought  how 
pleasant  the  drive  would  be  were  he  with  Mrs. 
Bentley — or,  for  the  matter  of  that,  with  an  7 
one  with  whom  he  could  talk  about  the  novel 
that  had  interested  him.  They  rolled  along 
the  smooth  wide  road,  watching  the  streak  of 
light  growing  narrower  in  a  veil  of  light  gray 
cloud  drawn  athwart  the  sky.  Overpowered 
by  her  love,  the  girl  hardly  noticed  his  silence ; 
and  when  they  passed  through  the  night  of  an 
overhanging  wood  her  flesh  thrilled,  and  a 
little  faintness  came  over  her;  for  the  leaves 
that  brushed  her  face  had  seemed  like  a  kiss 
from  her  lover. 


CHAPTER  XL 

As  the  days  went  by  Emily's  demands  on 
Hubert's  time  grew  larger  and  larger.  He 
had  begun  to  notice  that  he  met  her  at  every 
turn,  that  to  keep  out  of  her  way  seemed  no 
longer  possible,  and  with  proposals  to  go  here 
and  there,  with  tennis  parties,  and  with  visit- 
ors, she  beguiled  him  from  his  play.  He 
yielded  because  he  had  no  heart  to  refuse  such 
slight  favors  to  one  from  whom  he  had  taken 
so  much. 

During  the  summer  mouths  he  had  written 
hardly  anything;  and  in  this  long  idleness 
what  he  believed  to  be  an  inspiration  had 
come  upon  him,  and  he  had  rewritten  his 
first  and  third  acts  from  a  slightly  different 
point  of  view.  The  second  act  now  engaged 
his  attention.  He  could  not  quite  determine 
what  it  required  to  bring  it  into  harmony 
with  the  first  and  third ;  but  his  first  and 
third  acts  pleased  him  so  much  that  he  could 
not  wait  for  an  opinion  of  his  work  till  he 
had  finished  the  play,  and  one  evening  he 


VAIN  FORTUNE 

spoke  of  asking  some  of  his  London  friends 
to  stay  with  him  at  Ashwood.  Emily  and 
Mrs.  Bentley  welcomed  this  proposal.  He 
would  ask  the  editor  of  The  Cosmopolitan, 
Montague  Ford,  Harding,  and  perhaps  one  or 
two  more.  In  subsequent  consideration  it 
occurred  to  him  that  it  might  be  well  to  ask 
some  one  who  might  take  a  fancy  to  Emily. 
He  confided  his  intention  to  Mrs.  Bentley, 
who,  while  avoiding  any  direct  expression  of 
opinion,  contrived  to  let  him  understand  that, 
if  he  did  not  intend  marrying  Emily,  it  might 
be  as  well  to  try  to  get  her  a  husband.  There 
could  be  very  little  difficulty — a  pretty  girl 
with  three  hundred  a  year !  And  in  his  letter 
to  the  editor  Hubert  mentioned  these  facts, 
suggesting  that  if  he  (the  editor)  could  lay  his 
hand  on  a  nice  young  man,  he  might  bring 
him  down. 

The  young  man  that  the  editor  brought 
with  him  was  rich,  good-looking,  and  well 
connected — in  every  way  a  desirable  match ; 
and,  as  luck  would  have  it,  he  seemed  very 
much  taken  with  Emily.  After  dinner  he 
came  and  sat  by  her,  devoting  himself  entirely 
to  her. 

Hubert,   who   did   not  care  for  shooting, 


176  VAIN  FORTUNE 

walked,  as  the  afternoon  declined,  with  the 
ladies  through  the  fields,  so  as  to  meet  the 
sportsmen  as  they  were  coming  home.  And 
seeing  a  tall  figure  getting  through  a  hedge, 
Hubert  and  Mrs.  Bentley  hoped  it  was  young 
Rawley.  It  was  he ;  and  they  thought,  as  he 
strode  toward  them,  his  gun  on  his  shoulder, 
looking  so  well  in  his  shooting  gear,  that  no 
girl  could  refuse  him.  He  gave  them  a  brief 
description  of  the  day's  sport ;  and  as  he  then 
addressed  himself  entirely  to  Emily,  Hubert 
and  Mrs.  Bentley  dropped  back,  leaving  the 
younger  couple  together.  Their  kind  inten- 
tion, however,  seemed  to  meet  with  but  scant 
appreciation — at  least-  from  Emily,  who  fre- 
quently looked  back,  and  stopped  so  as  to 
allow  Hubert  and  Mrs.  Bentley  to  catch  them 
up.  Hubert  was  surprised  at  her  obvious 
want  of  interest  in  the  young  man;  and,  find- 
ing himself  alone  with  her  in  the  drawing- 
room — the  others  had  not  yet  come  down-stairs 
— he  said:  "I  cannot  understand  why  you 
don't  like  young  Kawley." 

"I  suppose  you  want  me  to  marry  him  ?  " 
she  asked  abruptly,  her  voice  trembling 
slightly. 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  marry  ;  I  was  think- 


VAIN  FORTUNE  177 

ing  only  of  your  own  good,  my  dear  Emily. 
He  is  a  very  nice  young  man.  Almost  anv 
girl- 

"  Then  let  any  girl  that  wants  him  take 
him  ! " 

"  That  settles  the  matter.  Let's  say  no 
more  about  it." 

"  You  are  not  angry  ?  " 

"  Angry  !  " 

"  I'm  very  happy  as  I  am.  Unless  you 
wish  me  to  leave  Ashwood,  I  see  no  reason 
why  I  should  marry.  Do  you  ?  " 

"  No,  I  can't  say  I  do.  Most  people  think 
a  girl  should  marry ;  but  I  dare  say  the 
world  is  far  too  prejudiced  in  favor  of  mar- 
riage." 

It  was  disappointing  to  see  her  throw  over 
so  excellent  a  chance,  and  in  quick  passage  a 
thought  asked  what  would  eventually  become 
of  her.  The  thought  passed,  leaving  no  im- 
pression, swallowed  up  in  more  present  and 
more  personal  interests.  He  had  not  enjoyed 
a  literary  discussion  for  months,  and  was  ab- 
sorbed in  Ford,  Harding,  and  the  editor.  He 
read  to  them  the  acts  he  had  re-written,  and 
these  were  passionately  argued,  and  the  vari- 
ous alternative  fourth  and  fifth  acts  which 
12 


178  VAIN  FORTUNE 

he  proposed  to  his  critics  formed  the  theme  of 
conversation.  His  critics  were  ready  with 
suggestion;  but  they  differed  so  widely  in 
their  view  of  the  play  that  it  was  difficult  to 
arrive  at  any  conclusion.  The  actor  spoke  of 
public  taste,  and  inclined  to  the  opinion  that 
there  must  be  at  least  one  character  with  whom 
the  audience  could  wholly  sympathize.  Hard- 
ing dissented  violently.  He  thought  that 
Hubert  in  re-writing  his  play,  with  a  view  of 
securing  the  sympathies  of  the  public,  had, 
especially  in  the  third  act,  deprived  the  char- 
acters of  a  great  deal  of  their  original  human- 
ity. Hubert  denied  that  he  had  re- written 
his  play  with  a  view  to  securing  the  the- 
atrical sympathies  of  the  audience,  and  the 
editor  joined  issue  with  Harding  regarding  the 
third  act  He  infinitely  preferred  the  revised 
version.  On  the  other  hand,  he  could  not  but 
think  that  the  first  act  was  better  as  Hubert 
had  originally  written  it.  It  was  simpler  and 
more  logical.  "But  why,"  he  said,  "seek 
after  any  one's  advice  ?  You  are  now  a  rich 
man,  and  can  afford  to  impose  your  ideas  on 
the  public.  Finish  your  play  in  the  way  it 
seems  best  to  you,  come  up  to  London,  take  a 
theatre,  and  produce  it.  We  shall  all  be  there 


VA*IN  FORTUNE  179 

to  applaud  you  ;  and  if  it  is  good,  we  will,  I 
promise  you,  fight  your  battle."  This  advice 
appeared  to  Hubert  to  be  excellent,  and  when 
his  friends  left  him  he  made  a  new  scenario. 

He  worked  very  hard,  roughing  out  his  play 
from  end  to  end.  New  ideas  came  to  him, 
but  the  difficulty  of  working  them  into  the 
woof  of  his  story  was  very  great.  They 
seemed  to  find  their  places  in  the  end ;  and, 
feeling  sure  he  would  now  be  able  to  finish 
"  The  Gipsy  "  to  his  satisfaction,  he  had  al- 
ready begun  to  speak  of  the  theatre  he  would 
select,  and  of  the  date  of  the  first  performance. 
Both  women  were  eagerly  interested ;  and 
after  dinner,  the  excitement  of  the  journey  to 
town,  the  dresses  they  would  wear,  the  assem- 
blage of  fashion  in  the  theatre,  the  great  sup- 
per to  which  all  genius  and  talent  would  be 
invited,  and,  above  all,  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
Hubert  successful,  were  the  theme  of  their 
conversation.  In  the  excitement  of  this  pros- 
pect of  pleasure,  and  new  sensation  of  life, 
Emily's  jealousy  of  Julia  seemed  to  subside — 
her  melancholy  little  soul  seemed  to  brighten  ; 
and  it  was  not  until  Hubert  directed  any  con- 
siderable amount  of  his  conversation  to  Mrs. 
Bentley  that  she  retreated  into  a  corner  and 


180  VAIN  FORTUNE 

sat  watching,  as  her  wont  was,  in  miserable 
silence. 

One  afternoon,  about  the  end  of  September, 
Hubert  came  down  from  his  study  about  tea- 
time,  and  announced  that  he  had  written  the 
last  scene  of  his  last  act  Emily  was  alone  in 
the  drawing-room, 

"  Oh,  how  glad  I  am !  Then  it  is  done  at 
last.  Why  not  write  at  once  and  engage  the 
theatre?  When  shall  we  go  to  London?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  mean  that  the  play  could  be 
put  into  rehearsal  to-morrow.  It  still  requires 
a  good  deal  of  overhauling.  Besides,  even  if 
it  were  completely  finished,  I  should  not  care 
to  produce  it  at  once.  I  should  like  to  lay  it 
aside  for  a  couple  of  months,  and  see  how  it 
read  then." 

"  What  a  lot  of  trouble  you  do  take  !  Does 
every  one  who  writes  plays  take  so  much 
trouble?" 

"  No,  I'm  afraid  they  do  not,  nor  is  it  nec- 
essary they  should.  Their  plays  are  merely 
incidents  strung  together  more  or  less  loosely ; 
whereas  my  play  is  the  development  of  a  tem- 
perament, of  temperamental  characteristics 
which  cannot  be  altered,  having  been  inher- 
ited through  centuries ;  it  must  therefore 


VAIN  FORTUNE  181 

pursue  its  course  to  a  fatal  conclusion.  In 
Shakespeare —  But  no,  no !  these  things 
have  no  interest  for  you.  You  shall  have  the 
nicest  dress  that  money  can  buy  ;  and  if  the 
play  succeeds " 

The  girl  raised  her  pathetic  eyes.  In  truth, 
she  cared  not  at  all  what  he  talked  to  her  about. 
She  was  occupied  with  her  own  thoughts  of 
him,  and  just  to  sit  in  the  room  with  him,  and 
to  look  at  him  occasionally,  was  sufficient. 
But  for  once  his  words  had  pained  her.  It 
was  because  she  could  not  understand  that  he 
did  not  care  to  talk  to  her.  Why  did  she  not 
understand?  It  was  hard  for  a  little  girl  like 
her  to  understand  such  things  as  he  spoke 
about ;  but  she  would  understand  ;  and  then 
her  thoughts  passed  into  words,  and  she 
said: 

"  I  understand  quite  as  well  as  Julia.  She 
knows  the  names  of  more  books  than  I,  and 
she  is  very  clever  at  pretending  that  she 
knows  more  than  she  does." 

At  that  moment  Mrs.  Bentley  entered.  She 
saw  that  Emily  was  enjoying  her  talk  with 
her  cousin,  and  tried  to  withdraw.  But  Hu- 
bert told  her  that  he  had  written  the  last  act ; 
she  pretended  to  be  looking  for  a  book,  and 


182  VAIN  FORTUNE 

then  for  some  work  which  she  said  had 
dropped  out  of  her  basket. 

"If  Emily  would  only  continue  the  talk- 
ing," she  thought,  "  I  should  be  able  to  get 
away."  But  Emily  said  not  a  word.  She 
sat  as  if  frozen  in  her  chair ;  and  at  length 
Mrs.  Bentley  was  obliged  to  enter,  however 
cursorily,  into  the  conversation. 

"  If  you  have  written  out  '  The  Gipsy  ' 
from  end  to  end,  I  should  advise  you  to  pro- 
duce it  without  further  delay.  Once  it  is  put 
on  the  stage,  you  will  be  able  to  see  better 
where  it  is  wrong." 

'•  Then  it  will  be  too  late.  The  critics  will 
have  expressed  their  opinion;  the  work  will 
be  judged.  There  are  only  one  or  two  points 
about  which  I  am  doubtful.  I  wish  Harding 
were  here.  I  cannot  work  unless  I  have  some 
one  to  talk  to  about  my  work.  I  don't  mean 
to  say  that  I  take  advice ;  but  the  very  fact 
of  reading  an  act  to  a  sympathetic  listener 
helps  me.  I  wrote  the  first  act  of  '  Divorce ' 
in  that  way.  It  was  all  wrong.  I  had  some 
vague  ideas  about  how  it  might  be  mended. 
A  friend  came  in  ;  I  told  him  my  difficulties ; 
in  telling  them  they  vanished,  and  I  wrote  an 
entirely  new  act  that  very  night." 


VAIN  FORTUNE  183 

"I'm  sorry,"  said  Mrs.  Bentley,  "that  I  am 
not  Mr.  Harding.  It  must  be  very  gratifying 
to  one's  feelings  to  be  able  to  help  to  solve  a 
literary  difficulty,  particularly  if  one  cannot 
write  one's  self." 

"But  you  can — I'm  sure  you  can.  I  re- 
member asking  your  advice  once  before;  it 
was  excellent,  and  was  of  immense  help  to 
me.  Are  you  sure  it  will  not  bore  you  ?  I 
shall  be  so  much  obliged  if  you  will." 

"Bore  me!  No,  it  won't  bore  me,"  said 
Mrs.  Bentley.  "  I'm  sure  I  feel  very  much 
flattered."  The  color  mounted  to  her  cheek, 
a  smile  was  on  her  lips ;  but  it  went  out  at 
the  sight  of  Emily's  face. 

"  Then  come  up  to  my  study.  We  shall 
have  just  time  to  get  through  the  first  act 
before  dinner." 

Mrs.  Bentley  hesitated;  and,  noticing  her 
hesitation,  Hubert  looked  surprised.  At  that 
moment  Emily  said : 

"  May  I  not  come,  too  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,  Emily.  You  see 
that  we  wish  to  see  if  there  is  anything  in  the 
play  that  a  young  girl  should  not  hear." 

"  Always  an  excuse  to  get  rid  of  me.  You 
want  to  be  alone.  I  never  come  into  the  room 


184  VAIN  FORTUNE 

that  you  do  not  stop  speaking.  Oh,  I  can 
bear  it  no  longer  !  " 

"  My  dear  Emily  !  " 

"  Don't  touch  me  !  Go  to  her ;  shut  your- 
selves up  together.  Don't  think  of  me.  I  can 
bear  it  no  longer !  "  And  she  fled  from  the 
room,  leaving  behind  her  a  sensation  of  alarm 
and  pity.  Hubert  and  Mrs.  Bentley  stood 
looking  at  each  other,  both  at  a  loss  for  words. 
At  last  he  said : 

"  That  poor  child  will  cry  herself  into  her 
grave.  Have  you  noticed  how  poorly  she  is 
looking  ?  " 

"  Not  noticed  !  But  you  do  not  know  half 
of  it.  It  has  been  going  on  now  a  long  time. 
You  don't  know  half  !  " 

"  I  have  noticed  that  things  are  not  settling 
down  as  I  hoped  they  would.  It  really  has 
become  quite  dreadful  to  see  that  poor  face 
looking  reproachfully  at  you  all  day  «long. 
And  I  am  quite  at  a  loss  to  know  what's  the 
right  thing  to  do." 

"  It  is  worse  than  you  think.  You  have 
not  noticed  that  we  hardly  speak  now." 

"  You  —  who  were  such  friends  —  surely 
not!" 

Then    she    told    him    hurriedly,    in    brief 


VAIN  FORTUNE  185 

phrases,  of  the  change  that  had  taken  place  in 
Emily  in  the  last  three  months.  "  It  was  only 
the  other  night  she  accused  me  of  going  after 
you,  of  having  designs  upon  you.  It  is  very 
painful  to  have  to  tell  you  these  things,  but  I 
have  no  choice  in  the  matter.  She  lay  on  her 
bed  crying,  saying  that  every  one  hated  her ; 
that  she  was  thoroughly  miserable.  Somehow 
she  seems  naturally  an-  unhappy  child.  She 
was  unhappy  at  home  before  she  came  here ; 
but  then  I  believe  she  had  excellent  reasons— 
her  father  was  a  very  terrible  person.  How- 
ever, all  that  is  past ;  we  have  to  consider  the 
present  now.  She  accused  me  of  having  de- 
signs on  you,  insisting  all  the  while  that  every 
one  was  talking  about  it,  and  that  she  was 
fretting  solely  because  of  my  good  name.  Of 
course,  it  is  very  ridiculous ;  but  it  is  very 
pitiful,  and  will  end  badly  if  we  don't  take 
means  to  put  a  stop  to  it.  I  shouldn't  be  sur- 
prised if  she  went  off  her  head.  We  ought 
to  have  the  best  medical  advice." 

"  This  is  very  serious,"  he  said.  And  then, 
at  the  end  of  a  long  silence,  he  said  again : 
"  This  is  very  serious  —  perhaps  far  more 
serious  than  we  think." 

"  Not  more  serious  than  I  think.     I  ought 


186  VAIN  FORTUNE 

to  have  spoken  about  it  to  you  before ;  but 
the  subject  is  a  delicate  one.  She  hardly 
sleeps  at  all  at  night ;  she  cries  sometimes  for 
hours;  she  works  herself  up  into  such  fits  of 
nervousness  that  she  doesn't  know  what  she 
is  saying — she  accuses  me  of  killing  her,  and 
then  repents,  declaring  that  I  am  the  only  one 
who  has  ever  cared  for  her,  and  begs  of  me 
not  to  leave  her.  I  do  assure  you  it  is  be- 
coming very  serious." 

"  Have  you  any  proposal  to  make  regard- 
ing her  ?  I  need  hardly  say  that  I'm  ready 
to  carry  out  any  idea  of  yours." 

"You  know  what  the  cause  of  it  is,  I 
suppose  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know ;  I  am  not  certain.  I  dare 
say  I'm  mistaken." 

u  No,  you  are  not ;  I  wish  you  were — that 
is  to  say,  unless —  But  I  was  saying  that  it 
is  most  serious.  The  child's  health  is  affected ; 
she  is  working  herself  up  into  an  awful  state 
of  mind ;  she  is  losing  all  self-control.  I'm 
sure  I'm  the  last  person  who  would  say  any- 
thing against  her ;  but  the  time  has  come  to 
speak  out  Well,  the  other  day,  when  we 
were  at  the  Eastwicks',  you  took  the  chair 
next  to  mine  when  she  left  the  room.  When 


VAIN  FORTUNE  187 

she  returned,  she  saw  that  you  had  changed 
your  place,  and  she  said  to  Ethel  Eastwick : 
'  Oh,  I'm  fainting.  I  cannot  go  in  there ;  they 
are  together.'  Ethel  had  to  take  her  up  to 
her  room.  Well,  this  morbid  sensitiveness  is 
most  unhealthy.  If  I  walk  out  on  the  terrace, 
she  follows,  thinking  that  I  have  made  an  ap- 
pointment to  meet  you.  Jealousy  of  me  fills 
up  her  whole  mind.  I  assure  you  that  I  am 
most  seriously  alarmed.  Something  occurs 
every  day — trifles,  no  doubt ;  and  in  anybody 
else  they  would  mean  nothing,  but  in  her  they 
mean  a  great  deal." 

" But  what  do  you  propose?  " 

"  Unless  you  intend  to  marry  her — forgive 
me  for  speaking  so  plainly — there  is  only  one 
thing  to  do.  I  must  leave." 

"  No,  no,  you  must  not  leave !  She  could 
not  live  alone  with  me.  But  does  she  want 
you  to  leave?" 

"  No,  that  is  the  worst  of  it.  I  have  pro- 
posed it ;  she  will  not  hear  of  it ;  to  mention 
the  subject  is  to  provoke  a  scene.  She  is 
afraid  if  I  left  that  you  would  come  and  see 
me;  and  the  very  thought  of  my  escaping  her 
vigilance  is  intolerable." 

"  It  is  very  strange." 


188  VAIN  FORTUNE 

"  Yes,  it  is  very  strange ;  but,  opposed 
though  she  be  to  all  thoughts  of  it,  I  must 
leave." 

"  As  a  favor  I  ask  you  to  stay.  Do  me  this 
service,  I  beg  of  you.  I  have  set  my  heart 
on  finishing  my  play  this  autumn.  If  it  isn't 
finished  now,  it  never  will  be  finished  ;  and 
your  leaving  would  create  so  much  trouble 
that  all  thought  of  work  would  be  out  of  the 
question.  Emily  could  not  remain  alone  here 
with  me.  I  should  have  to  find  another  com- 
panion for  her;  and  you  know  how  difficult 
that  would  be.  I'm  worried  quite  enough,  as 
it  is."  A  look  of  pain  passed  through  his 
eyes,  and  Mrs.  Bentley  wondered  what  he 
could  mean.  "  No,"  he  said,  taking  her  hands, 
"we  are  good  friends — are  we  not?  Dome 
this  service.  Stay  with  me  until  I  finish  this 
play ;  then,  if  things  do  not  mend,  go  if 
you  like,  but  not  now.  Will  you  promise 
me?" 

"  I  promise." 

"Thank  you.     I  am    deeply    obliged  to 

you." 

At  the  end  of  a  long  silence,  Hubert  said : 
''  Will  you  not  come  up-stairs,  and  let  me  read 
you  the  first  act  ?  " 


VAIN  FORTUNE  189 

"  I  should  like  to,  but  I  think  it  better  not 
If  Emily  heard  that  you  had  read  me  your 
play,  she  would  not  close  her  eyes  to-night ; 
it  would  be  tears  and  misery  all  the  night 
through." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  study  in  which  he  had  determined  to 
write  his  masterpiece  had  been  fitted  up  with 
taste  and  care.  The  floor  was  covered  with  a 
rare  Persian  carpet,  and  the  walls  were  lined 
with  graceful  book-cases  of  Chippendale  de- 
sign ;  the  volumes,  half -morocco,  calf,  and  the 
yellow  paper  of  French  novels,  showed  through 
the  diamond  panes.  The  writing-table  stood 
in  front  of  the  window ;  like  the  book-cases,  it 
was  Chippendale,  and  on  the  dark  mahogany 
the  handsome  silver  inkstand  seemed  to  invite 
literary  composition.  There  was  a  scent  of 
flowers  in  the  room.  Emily  had  filled  a  bowl 
of  old  china  with  some  pale  September  roses. 
The  curtains  were  made  of  a  modern  cretonne 
— their  color  was  similar  to  the  bowl  of  roses ; 
and  the  large  couch  on  which  Hubert  lay  was 
covered  with  the  same  material.  On  one  wall 
there  was  a  sea-piece  by  Courbet,  and  upon 
another  a  river  landscape,  with  rosy-tinted 
evening  sky,  by  Corot  The  chimney-piece 
was  set  out  with  a  large  gilt  time-piece,  and 


VAIN  FORTUNE  191 

candelabra  in  Dresden  china.  Hubert  had 
bought  these  works  of  art  on  the  occasion  of 
his  last  visit  to  London,  about  two  months 
ago. 

It  was  twelve  o'clock.  He  had  finished 
reading  his  second  act,  and  the  reading  had 
been  a  bitter  disappointment.  The  idea 
floated,  pure  and  seductive,  in  his  mind ;  but 
when  he  tried  to  reduce  it  to  a  precise  shape 
upon  paper,  it  seemed  to  escape  in  some  vague, 
mysterious  way.  Enticingly,  like  a  butterfly 
it  fluttered  before  him;  he  followed  like  a 
child,  eagerly — his  brain  set  on  the  mazy 
flight.  It  led  him  through  a  country  where 
all  was  promise  of  milk  and  honey.  He  fol- 
lowed, sure  that  the  alluring  spirit  would  soon 
choose  a  flower;  then  he  would  capture  it. 
Often  it  seemed  to  settle.  He  approached 
with  palpitating  heart ;  but  lo !  when  the  net 
was  withdrawn  it  was  empty. 

A  look  of  pain  and  perplexity  came  upon 
his  face ;  he  remembered  the  lodging  at  seven 
shillings  a  week  in  the  Tottenham  Court  Road. 
He  had  suffered  there;  but  it  seemed  to  him 
that  he  was  suffering  more  here.  He  had 
changed  his  surroundings,  but  he  had  not 
changed  himself.  Success  and  failure,  despair 


192  VAIN  FORTUNE 

and  hope,  joy  and  sorrow,  lie  within  and  not 
without  us.  His  pain  lay  at  his  heart's  root ; 
he  could  not  pluck  it  forth,  and  its  gratifica- 
tion seemed  more  than  ever  impossible.  He 
changed  his  position  on  the  couch.  Suddenly 
his  thoughts  said :  "  Perhaps  I  am  mistaken  in 
the  subject.  Perhaps  that  is  the  reason.  Per- 
haps there  is  no  play  to  be  extracted  from  it ; 
perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  abandon  it  and 
choose  another."  For  a  few  seconds  he  scanned 
the  literary  horizon  of  his  mind.  "  No,  no ! " 
he  said  bitterly,  "  this  is  the  play  I  was  born 
to  write.  No  other  subject  is  possible ;  I  can 
think  of  nothing  else.  This  is  all  I  can  feel 
or  sea"  It  was  the  second  act  that  now  defied 
his  efforts.  It  had  once  seemed  clear  and  of 
exquisite  proportions ;  now  no  second  act 
seemed  possible :  the  subject  did  not  seem  to 
admit  of  a  second  act ;  and,  clasping  his  fore- 
head with  his  hands,  he  strove  to  think  it  out. 
He  remembered  that  in  the  second  act, 
drawn  by  irresistible  instinct,  Lady  Hay  ward 
visits  the  gipsies'  encampment  The  nostalgia 
of  the  desert  is  upon  her;  she  questions  them 
about  their  wanderings,  learning  eventually 
that  the  old  fortune-teller  is  her  mother.  Al- 
though Lady  Hayward  loves  her  husband, 


VAIN  FORTUNE  193 

she  is  unconsciously  drawn  toward  a  young 
gipsy ;  and  it  is  at  the  close  of  the  act  that 
this  note  of  the  attraction  of  race,  out  of  which 
the  story  proceeds,  is  first  touched  upon.  But 
though  clear  and  precise  in  its  conception,  this 
act,  as  the  author  recognized,  was  overgrown 
with  a  fungous  growth  of  subordinate  idea. 
He  felt  that  all  subordinate  idea  must  be 
eliminated,  and  nothing  left  but  just  enough 
to  explain  the  drama  that  was  to  follow.  But 
how  to  secure  the  main  theme,  and  preserve 
it  like  a  thread  of  gold  to  the  end  ? 

In  his  distraction  he  would  take  down  book 
after  book,  never  finding  the  one  he  wanted  ; 
he  would  turn  over  newspapers ;  or,  dashing 
out  of  the  house  and  wandering  about  in  the 
park,  the  strain  of  his  thoughts,  first  relieved 
by  the  chatter  of  a  bird  or  an  effect  of  light, 
would  unconsciously  steal  back  to  Lady  Hay- 
ward  ;  and  very  often,  before  he  was  aware, 
the  dense  dilemma  and  devious  labyrinth  of 
the  act  would  grow  suddenly  clear,  and  meas- 
ure out  in  proportioned  ways;  and  he,  feeling 
strong  and  capable  of  achievement,  would 
hasten  home,  fearing  he  might  lose  the  pre- 
cious inspiration.  See  him  on  a  wet  Septem- 
ber morning,  hurrying  through  the  deep  grass, 
13 


194  VAIN  FORTUNE 

his  feet  soaking,  fearing  only  lest  the  idea 
should  fade  before  he  reaches  the  white  sheet 
of  paper.  As  he  approaches  his  study  it 
slackens  within  him,  and  he  waits  not  to 
throw  off  his  boots,  but  sits  down  at  once  and 
writes  precipitately.  But  as  he  draws  to  the 
end  of  the  first  few  rcpliqucs  the  scene  withers 
in  his  brain,  and  goes  out  like  a  dying  light. 
See  him  reading  and  re-reading  the  few  lines 
he  has  written,  knowing  them  to  be  worthless, 
tortured  by  a  prescience  of  the  perfection  re- 
quired, and  maddened  by  the  sight  of  the 
futility  that  is.  See  him  rising  from  his 
writing-table  with  blank  despair  upon  his 
face,  unable  to  bear  any  longer  the  mocking 
ghastliness  of  the  sheet  of  paper.  He  throws 
himself  on  the  couch,  absorbed  in  despair,  and 
then  a  curious  painful  look  creeps  round  the 
corners  of  the  mouth,  and  looks  out  of  the 
eyes — the  pained,  pinched  look  of  impotent 
desire.  Any  distraction  from  the  haunting 
pain,  now  becoming  chronic,  is  welcome,  and 
he  answers  with  a  glad  "  Come  in  !  "  the  knock 
at  the  door. 

"  I'm  sorry,"  said  Mrs.  Bentley,  "  for  dis- 
turbing you,  but  I  should  like  to  know  what 
fish  you  would  like  for  your  dinner — soles, 


VAIN  FORTUNE  195 

turbot,  or  whiting  ?  Immersed  in  literary 
problems  as  you  are,  I  dare  say  these  details 
are  very  prosaic  ;  but  I  notice  that  later  in  the 
day " 

Hubert  laughed.  "  I  find  such  details  far 
more  agreeable  than  literature.  I  can  do 
nothing  with  my  play." 

"Aren't  you  getting  on  this  morning?  " 

"  No,  not  very  well." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  turbot  ?  " 

"  I  think  turbot  very  nice.  Emily  likes 
turbot" 

"  Yery  well,  then.     I'll  order  turbot" 

As  Mrs.  Bentley  was  about  to  withdraw, 
she  said :  "  I'm  sorry  you  are  not  getting  on. 
What  stops  you  now?  That  second  act  ?  " 

"  Come,  you  are  not  very  busy.  I'll  read 
you  the  act  as  it  stands,  and  then  tell  you  how 
I  think  it  ought  to  be  altered.  Nothing  helps 
me  so  much  as  to  talk  it  over ;  not  only  does 
it  clear  up  my  ideas,  but  it  gives  me  desire  to 
write.  My  best  work  has  always  been  done 
in  that  way." 

"I  really  don't  think  I  can  stay.  If  Emily 
heard  that  you  had  been  reading  your  play  to 
me " 

"  I'm  tired  of  hearing  of  what  Emily  thinks. 


196  VAIN  FORTUNE 

I  can  put  up  with  a  good  deal,  and  I  know 
that  it  is  m j  duty  to  show  much  forbearance ; 
but  there  is  a  limit  to  all  things  ! "  This  was 
the  first  time  Mrs.  Bentley  had  seen  him 
show  either  excitement  or  anger ;  she  hardly 
knew  him  in  this  new  aspect  In  a  moment 
the  blond  calm  of  the  Saxon  had  dropped 
from  him,  and  some  Celtic  emphasis  appeared 
in  his  speech.  "  This  hysterical  girl,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  is  a  sore  burden.  Tears  about  this, 
and  sighs  about  that ;  fainting  fits  because  I 
happen  to  take  a  chair  next  to  yours.  You 
may  depend  upon  it  our  lives  are  already  the 
constant  gossip  of  the  neighborhood." 

"  I  know  it  is  very  annoying ;  and  I, 
I  assure  you,  receive  my  share.  Every  look 
and  word  is  misinterpreted.  I  must  not  stay 
here." 

"  You  must  not  go !  I  really  want  you.  I 
assure  you  that  your  opinion  will  be  of  value." 

"  But  think  of  Emily.  It  will  make  her 
wretched  if  she  hears  of  it  You  do  not  know 
how  it  affects  her.  The  slightest  thing ! 
You  hardly  see  anything  ;  I  see  it  all." 

"But  there  is  no  sense  in  it;  it  is  pure 
madness.  I'm  writing  a  play,  trying  to  work 
out  a  most  difficult  problem,  and  am  in  want 


VAIN  FORTUNE  197 

of  an  audience,  and  I  ask  you  if  you  will  be 
kind  enough  to  let  me  read  you  the  act,  and 
you  cannot  listen  to  it — because — because — 
yes,  that's  just  it — because." 

"  You  do  not  know  how  she  suffers.  Let 
me  go  ;  spare  her  the  pain." 

"  She  is  not  the  only  one  who  suffers.  Do 
you  think  that  I  don't  suffer  ?  I've  set  my 
heart — my  very  life  is  set  on  this  play.  I 
must  get  through  with  it ;  they  are  all  waiting 
for  it.  My  enemies  say  I  cannot  write  it,  but 
I  shall  if  you  will  help  me." 

"  Poor  Emily's  heart  is  equally  broken. 
Her  life  is  equally  set —  Mrs.  Bentley 
did  not  finish.  Hubert  just  caught  the  words. 
Their  significance  struck  him:  he  looked 
questioningly  into  Mrs.  Bentley 's  eyes ;  then, 
pretending  not  to  have  understood,  he  begged 
her  to  remain.  With  the  air  of  one  who 
yields  to  a  temptation,  she  came  into  the 
room.  He  felt  strangely  happy,  and,  draw- 
ing over  an  arm-chair  for  her,  he  threw  him- 
self on  the  couch.  He  noticed  that  she  wore 
a  loose  white  jacket,  and  once  during  the  read- 
ing of  the  act  he  was  conscious  of  a  beautiful 
hand  hanging  over  the  rail  of  the  chair. 
Sometimes,  in  an  exciting  passage,  the  hands 


198  VAIN  FORTUNE 

were  clasped.  The  black  slippers  and  the 
slender,  black-stockinged  ankles  showed  be- 
neath the  skirt ;  and  when  he  raised  his  eyes 
from  the  manuscript,  he  saw  the  blond  face 
and  hair,  and  the  pale  eyes  were  always  fixed 
upon  him.  She  listened  with  a  keen  and 
penetrating  interest  to  his  criticism  of  the  act, 
agreeing  with  him  generally,  sometimes  quietly 
contesting  a  point,  and  with  some  strange  fas- 
cination drawing  new  and  unexpected  ideas 
from  him ;  and  in  the  intellectual  warmth  of 
her  femininity  his  brain  seemed  to  clear  and 
his  ideas  took  new  shape. 

"Ah,"  he  said,  after  two  hours'  delightful 
talk,  "how  much  I'm  indebted  to  you!  At 
last  I  see  my  mistakes;  in  two  days  I  shall 
have  written  the  act  ...  If  I  only  had  you 
by  me,  I  should  soon  finish  the  play.  Just 
to  talk  to  you,  just  some  slight  communion 
with  good  sense,  and  I've  got  it  I  do  not 
think  I'll  come  down  to  lunch.  Send  me  up 
a  sandwich ;  but  before  you  go,  let  me  tell 
you.  ...  In  the  third  act,  you  know,  the 
nostalgia  of  the  tent  gains  upon  her;  her 
husband  lavishes  presents  of  love  and  jewels 
upon  her,  but  to  no  purpose.  She  pines  for 
the  stars  and  skies  of  the  encampment :  she 


VAIN  FORTUNE  199 

pines  also  for  her  gipsy  lover ;  but  of  her 
love  for  him  she  is  not  yet  conscious.  The 
act  ends  with  her  elopement.  In  the  fourth 
act  her  husband  comes  after  her ;  for  her  sake 
he  will  become  a  gipsy ;  he  will  wander  with 
her,  her  people  shall  be  his  people.  But  now 
she  shrinks  from  him  as  one  of  an  alien  race. 
He  learns  the  truth ;  the  men  meet  and  they 
fight.  Lord  Hayward  is  stabbed  by  the  gipsy. 
...  In  the  fifth  act,  overcome  with  remorse 
and  unable  to  stand  the  rough  life  of  the  en- 
campment, Lady  Hayward  escapes  and  returns 
to  her  home.  She  is  followed  by  the  gipsy. 
The  last  act  is  by  her  husband's  tomb,  and 
the  play  ends  with  her  death."  Hubert  told 
the  story  of  his  play,  looking  at  Mrs.  Bentley, 
but  hardly  seeing  her,  completely  absorbed  in 
his  desire.  She  looked  at  him,  noticing  every 
characteristic — the  shape  of  his  ears,  of  his 
hands,  the  color  of  his  eyes,  every  peculiarity 
of  manner ;  and  the  thought  passed :  "  How 
he  does  love  his  work  !  How  his  life  is  in 
it!" 

When  she  left  he  instantly  sat  down  to 
write,  and  he  wrote  rapidly  for  nearly  two 
hours,  reconstructing  the  opening  scenes  of 
his  second  act.  He  then  threw  himself  on 


200  VAIN  FORTUNE 

the  couch,  smoked  a  cigar,  and  after  half  an 
hour's  rest  continued  writing  till  dinner-time. 
When  he  came  down-stairs,  the  thought  of 
what  he  had  been  writing  was  still  so  vivid  in 
him  that  he  did  not  notice  at  once  the  silence 
of  those  with  whom  he  was  dining.  He  com- 
plimented Mrs.  Bentley  on  the  freshness  of 
the  turbot ;  she  hardly  answered ;  and  then 
he  became  aware  that  something  had  gone 
wrong.  What  ?  Only  one  thing  was  possi- 
ble. Emily  had  heard  that  Mrs.  Bentley  had 
been  in  his  study.  Looking  from  the  woman 
to  the  girl,  he  saw  that  the  latter  had  been 
weeping.  She  was  still  in  a  highly  hysterical 
state,  and  might  burst  into  tears  and  fly  from 
the  dinner-table  at  any  moment.  His  face 
changed  expression,  and  it  was  with  difficulty 
that  he  restrained  his  temper.  His  life  had 
been  made  up  of  a  constant  recurrence  of 
these  scenes,  and  he  was  wholly  weary  of 
them  ;  and  the  thought  of  the  absolute  want 
of  reason  in  the  causeless  jealousy,  and  the 
misery  that  these  little  bickerings  made  of  his 
life,  exasperated  him  beyond  measure.  The 
dinner  proceeded  in  silence,  and  every  slight 
remark  was  a  presage  of  storm.  Hubert 
hoped  the  girl  would  say  nothing  until  the 


VAIN  FORTUNE  201 

servant  left  the  room,  and  with  that  view  he 
never  spoke  a  word  except  to  ask  the  ladies 
what  they  would  take  to  eat  These  tactics 
might  have  succeeded  if  Mrs.  Bentley  had  not 
unfortunately  said  that  next  week  she  in- 
tended to  go  to  London  for  a  couple  of  days. 
"The  Eastwicks  are  there  now,  and  they've 
asked  me  to  stay  with  them." 

"  I  think  I  shall  go  up  with  you.  I  want 
to  go  to  London,"  said  Emily. 

"  It  will  be  very  nice  if  you'll  come ;  but 
we  cannot  both  stay  with  the  Eastwicks ;  they 
have  only  one  spare  room." 

"I  suppose  you'd  like  me  to  go  to  an 
hotel." 

"  My  dear  Emily,  how  can  you  think  of 
such  a  thing  ?  A  young  girl  like  you  could 
not  stay  at  an  hotel  alone.  I  shall  be  only  too 
pleased  if  you  will  go  to  the  Eastwicks ;  I  will 
go  to  the  hotel." 

Emily's  lip  quivered,  and  in  the  irritating 
silence  both  Hubert  and  Mrs.  Bentley  saw 
that  she  was  trying  to  overcome  her  passion. 
They  fervently  hoped  she  would  succeed  ;  for 
at  that  moment  the  servant  was  handing  round 
the  wine,  and  the  time  he  took  to  accomplish 
this  service  seemed  endless.  He  had  filled 


202  VAIN  FORTUNE 

the  last  glass,  had  handed  round  the  dessert, 
and  was  preparing  to  leave  the  room  when 
Emily  said  : 

"  The  hotel  will  suit  you  very  well.  You'll 
be  free  to  see  Hubert  whenever  you  like." 

Hubert  looked  up  quickly,  hoping  Mrs. 
Bentley  would  not  answer,  but  before  he 
could  make  a  sign  she  said: 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Emily  ?  I  did  not 
know  that  Hubert  was  going  to  London." 

"  You  hardly  expect  me  to  believe  that,  do 
you?" 

The  servant  was  still  in  the  room ;  but  no 
look  of  astonishment  appeared  on  his  face, 
and  Hubert  hoped  he  had  not  heard.  An 
awful  silence  glowered  upon  the  dinner-table. 
The  moment  the  door  closed  Hubert  said, 
turning  angrily  to  Emily  : 

"  Really,  I  am  quite  surprised,  Emily,  that 
you  should  make  such  observations  in  the 
presence  of  servants !  This  has  been  going 
on  quite  long  enough ;  you  are  making  the 
house  intolerable.  I  shall  not  be  able  to  live 
here  any  longer." 

Emily  burst  into  a  passionate  flood  of  tears. 
She  declared  she  was  wretchedly  miserable 
and  that  she  fully  understood  that  Hubert 


VAIN  FORTUNE  203 

had  begun  to  regret  that  he  had  asked  her  to 
stay  at  Ashwood.  Everything  had  been  taken 
from  her ;  every  one  was  against  her.  Her 
sobs  shook  her  frail  little  frame  as  if  they 
would  break  it,  and  Hubert's  heart  was  wrung 
at  the  sight  of  such  genuine  suffering. 

"  My  dear  Emily,  I  assure  you  you  are 
mistaken.  We  both  love  you  very  much." 
He  got  up  from  his  chair,  and,  putting  his 
arm  about  her,  besought  her  to  dry  her  eyes ; 
but  she  shook  him  passionately  from  her,  and 
fled  from  the  room.  Three  days  after  Emily 
tore  up  one  of  her  songs,  because  Mrs.  Bentley 
had  sung  it  without  her  leave.  And  so  on  and 
so  on,  week  after  week.  No  sooner  was  one 
quarrel  allayed  than  signs  of  another  began  to 
appear.  Hubert  despaired.  "  How  is  this  to 
end  ?  "  he  asked  himself  every  day.  Mrs.  Bent- 
ley  begged  him  to  cancel  her  promise,  and  allow 
her  to  go.  But  that  was  impossible.  He 
could  not  remain  alone  with  Emily  ;  if  he  left 
her  she  would  not  fail  to  believe  that  he  had 
gone  after  her  rival.  The  situation  had  be- 
come so  tense  that  they  ended  by  discussing 
these  questions  almost  without  reserve.  To 
make  matters  worse,  Emily  had  begun  visibly 
to  lose  her  health.  There  was  neither  color 


204  VAIN  FORTUNE 

in  her  cheeks  nor  light  in  her  eyes ;  she  hardly 
slept  at  all,  and  had  grown  more  than  ever 
like  a  little  shadow.  The  doctor  had  been 
summoned,  and,  after  prescribing  a  tonic,  had 
advised  quiet  and  avoidance  of  all  excitement 
Therefore  Hubert  and  Mrs.  Bentley  agreed 
never  to  meet  except  when  Emily  was  present, 
and  then  strove  to  speak  as  little  as  possible 
to  each  other.  But  the  very  fact  of  having 
to  restrain  themselves  in  looks,  glances,  and 
every  slightest  word — for  Emily  misinter- 
preted all  things — whetted  their  appetites  for 
each  other's  society. 

In  the  misery  of  his  study,  when  he  watched 
the  sheet  of  paper,  he  often  sought  relief  in 
remembrance  of  her  sweet  manner,  and  the 
happy  morning  he  had  spent  in  her  com- 
panionship. What  he  had  written  under  the 
direct  influence  of  her  inspiration  still  seemed 
to  him  to  be  less  bad  than  the  rest  of  his  play ; 
and  he  began  to  feel  sure  that,  if  ever  this 
play  were  written,  it  would  be  written  in  the 
benign  charm  of  her  sweet  encouragement,  in 
the  reposeful  shadow  of  her  presence.  But 
that  presence  was  forbidden  him — that  pres- 
ence that  seemed  so  necessary ;  and  for  what 
reason?  Turning  on  the  circumstances  of 


VAIN  FORTUNE  205 

his  life,  he  raged  against  them,  declaring  that 
it  would  be  folly  to  allow  his  very  life's  desire 
to  be  frittered  away  to  gratify  a  young  girl's 
caprice — a  caprice  which  in  a  few  years  she 
would  laugh  at  And  whenever  he  was  not 
thinking  of  his  play,  he  remembered  the 
charm  of  Mrs.  Bentley's  company,  and  the 
beneficent  effect  it  had  on  his  work.  He  had 
never  known  a  woman  he  had  liked  so  much, 
and  he  felt — he  started  at  the  thought,  so  like 
an  inspiration  did  it  seem  to  him — that  the 
only  possible  solution  of  the  present  situation 
was  his  marriage  with  her.  Once  he  was 
married,  Emily  would  soon  learn  to  forget 
him.  They  would  take  her  up  to  London  for 
the  season ;  and,  amid  the  healthy  excitement 
of  balls  and  parties,  her  girlish  fancy  would 
evaporate.  No  doubt  she  would  meet  again 
the  young  cavalry  officer  whose  addresses  she 
had  received  so  coldly.  She  would  be  sure  to 
meet  him  again — be  sure  to  think  him  the 
most  charming  man  in  the  world ;  they  would 
marry,  and  she  would  make  him  the  best  pos- 
sible wife.  The  kindest  action  they  could  do 
Emily  would  be  to  marry.  There  was  noth- 
ing else  to  do,  and  they  must  do  something, 
or  else  the  girl  would  die.  It  seemed  wonder- 


20G  VAIN  FORTUNE 

ful  to  Hubert  that  he  had  not  thought  of  all 
this  before.  "  It  is  the  very  obvious  solution 
of  the  problem,"  he  said  ;  and  his  heart  beat 
as  he  heard  Mrs.  Bentley's  step  in  the  corridor. 
It  died  away  in  the  distance ;  but  a  few  days 
after,  when  he  heard  it  again,  he  jumped  from 
his  chair,  and  ran  to  the  door.  "  Come,"  he 
said,  "  I  want  to  speak  to  you," 

"  Na,  no,  I  beg  of  you  !  " 

"  I  must  speak  to  you  !  "  He  laid  his  hand 
upon  her  arm,  and  said :  "I  beg  of  you.  I 
have  something  to  say — it  is  of  great  import- 
ance. Come  in." 

They  looked  at  each  other  a  moment,  and 
it  seemed  as  if  they  could  see  into  each  other's 
souls.  Then  a  look  of  yielding  passed  into 
her  eyes,  and  she  said  : 

"Well,  what  is  it?" 

The  familiarity  of  the  words  struck  her, 
and  she  saw  by  the  kindling  tenderness  in  his 
eyes  that  they  had  given  him  pleasure.  She 
almost  knew  he  was  going  to  tell  her  that  he 
loved  her.  He  looked  toward  the  open  door, 
and,  guessing  his  intention,  she  said  : 

"Don't  shut  it !  Speak  quickly.  Remem- 
ber that  she  may  pass  at  any  moment.  Were 
she  to  find  us  together,  she  would  suffer;  it 


VAIN  FORTUNE  207 

would  be  tears  and  reproaches.  What  you 
have  to  say  to  me  is  about  her?" 

"Of  course;  we  never  speak  of  anything 
else.  But  we  must  not  be  overheard.  I  must 
shut  the  door."  She  noticed  a  certain  em- 
barrassment in  his  manner.  Suddenly  relin- 
quishing his  intention  to  take  her  hands,  he 
said : 

"This  cannot  go  on;  our  lives  are  being 
made  .unbearable.  You  agree  with  me — do 
you  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  with  a  curious  inquiring 
look  in  her  eyes.  "You  had  better  let  me 
leave.  It  is  the  only  way  out  of  the  diffi- 
culty." 

"  You  know  very  well,  Julia,  that  that  is 
impossible." 

It  was  the  first  time  he  had  used  her  Chris- 
tian name,  and  she  knew  now  he  was  going 
to  ask  her  to  marry  him.  A  frightened  look 
passed  into  her  face ;  she  turned  from  him ; 
he  took  her  hands. 

"No,  Julia,"  he  said ;  "  there  is  another  and 
better  way  out  of  the  difficulty.  •  You  will 
stop  here  —  you  will  be  my  wife?"  Reading 
the  look  of  pain  that  had  come  into  her  eyes, 
he  said  :  "  You  will  not  refuse  me  ?  I  want 


208  VAIN  FORTUNE 

you  —  I  can  do  nothing  without  you.  If  you 
leave  me,  I  shall  never  be  able  to  write  my 
play ;  it  can  only  be  written  under  your  influ- 
ence. I  love  you,  Julia !  "  She  allowed  him 
to  draw  her  toward  him,  and  then  she  broke 
away. 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  "  why  do  you  say  these 
things?  You  only  make  my  task  harder. 
You  know  that  I  cannot  betray  my  friend. 
Why  do  you  tempt  me  to  do  a  dishonorable 
action  ?  " 

"  A  dishonorable  action !  What  do  you 
mean  ?  It  is  the  only  way  to  save  her.  Once 
we  are  married,  she  will  forget  No  doubt 
she  will  shed  a  few  tears ;  but  to  save  the 
body  we  must  often  lose  a  limb.  It  is  even 
so.  Things  cannot  go  on  as  they  are.  We 
cannot  watch  her  withering  away  under  our 
very  eyes ;  and  that  is  what  is  actually  hap- 
pening. I  have  thought  it  all  over,  con- 
sidered it  from  every  point  of  view,  and  have 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  —  that,  well,  that 
we  had  better  marry.  You  must  have  seen 
that  I  atways  liked  you.  I  did  not  my- 
self know  how  much  until  a  few  days  ago. 
Say  that  I  am  not  wholly  disagreeable  to 
you." 


VAIN  FORTUNE  209 

"No,  I  will  not  listen  to  you!  My  con- 
science tells  me  plainly  where  my  duty  lies. 
Not  for  all  the  world  will  I  play  Emily  false. 
I  shudder  to  think  of  such  a  thing ;  it  would 
be  the  basest  ingratitude.  I  owe  everything 
to  her.  "When  I  hadn't  a  penny  in  the  world, 
and  when  in  my  homelessness  I  wrote  to  Mr. 
Burnett,  she  pleaded  in  my  favor,  and  decided 
him  to  take  me  as  a  companion.  No,  no !  a 
thousand  times  no !  Let  go  my  hands.  Do 
you  not  know  what  it  is  to  be  loyal  ?  " 

"  I  hope  I  do.  But,  as  I  have  explained, 
it  is  the  only  solution.  The  romantic  attach- 
ments of  young  girls,  unless  nipped  in  the 
bud,  often  end  fatally.  Do  you  not  see  how 
ill  she  is  looking?  She  is  wearing  her  life 
away.  We  will  be  acting  in  her  best  interests. 
Besides,  she  is  not  the  only  person  to  be  con- 
sidered. Do  I  not  love  you  ?  Are  you  not 
the  very  woman  whose  influence,  whose  guid- 
ance, is  necessary,  so  that  I  should  succeed  ? 
Without  your  help  I  shall  never  write  my 
play.  A  woman's  influence  is  necessary  to 
every  undertaking.  The  greatest  writers  owe 
their  best  inspiration  to " 

"Her  heart  is  as  closely  set  upon  you  as 
yours  is  upon  your  play." 
14 


210  VAIN  FORTUNE 

"  But,"  cried  Hubert,  "  I  do  not  love  her ! 
Under  no  circumstances  would  I  marry  her. 
That  I  swear  to  you.  If  she  and  I  were  alone 
on  a  desert  island — 

Julia  looked  at  him  one  moment  doubtingly, 
inquiringly.  Then  she  said : 

"  Hers  is  no  evanescent  fancy,  but  a  passion 
that  goes  to  the  very  roots  of  her  nature,  and 
will  kill  her  if  it  be  not  satisfied." 

"  Or  cut  out  in  time." 

"  I  must  leave." 

"  That  will  not  mend  matters." 

"My  departure  will  at  all  events  remove 
all  cause  for  jealousy ;  and  when  I  am  gone 
you  may  learn  to  love  her." 

"No;  that  I  swear  is  impossible!" 

"  You  very  likely  think  so  now ;  but  I'm 
bound  to  give  her  every  chance  of  winning 

you." 

"  I  say  again  that  that  is  impossible  !  I 
have  never  seen  a  woman  except  yourself  I 
could  marry.  I  tell  you  so  :  believe  me  as  you 
like.  ...  In  this  matter  you  are  acting  like 
a  woman — you  allow  your  emotions  and  not 
your  intellect  to  lead  you.  By  acting  thus, 
you  are  certainly  sacrificing  two  lives — hers 
and  mine.  Of  your  own  I  do  not  speak,  not 


VAIN  FORTUNE  211 

knowing  what  is  passing  in  your  heart ;  but 
if  by  any  chance  you  should  care  for  me,  you 
are  adding  your  own  happiness  to  the  general 
holocaust."  Neither  spoke  again  for  some 
time. 

"  Why  should  you  not  marry  her  ? " 
Julia  said  at  the  end  of  a  long  silence. 
"  Some  people  think  her  quite  a  pretty 
girl." 

The  lovers  looked  at  each  other,  and  smiled 
sadly.  And  then,  in  pathetic  phrases,  Hubert 
tried  to  explain  why  he  could  never  love 
Emily.  He  spoke  of  his  age,  and  of  difference 
of  tastes — he  liked  clever  women.  The  con- 
versation fell.  At  the  end  of  a  long  silence 
Julia  said  : 

"  There  is  nothing  for  it  but  my  departure, 
and  the  sooner  the  better." 

"You  are  not  in  earnest?  You  are  surely 
not  in  earnest  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,  I  am." 

"  Then  if  you  go,  you  must  take  her  with 
you.  She  cannot  remain  here  alone  with  me. 
And  even  if  she  could,  I  could  not  live  with  her. 
Her  folly  has  destroyed  any  liking  I  may 
have  ever  had  for  her.  You'll  have  to  take 
her  with  you." 


212  VAIN  FORTUNE 

"She  would  not  come  with  me.  I  spoke 
to  her  once  of  a  trip  abroad." 

"  And  she  refused  ?  " 

"She  said  she  only  wanted  things  to  go  on 
just  as  they  are." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

IN  some  trepidation  Julia  knocked  Re- 
ceiving no  reply,  she  opened  the  door,  and  her 
candle  burnt  in  what  a  moment  before  must 
have  been  inky  darkness.  Emily  lay  on  her 
bed — on  the  edge  of .  it ;  and  the  only  move- 
ment she  made  was  to  avert  her  eyes  from  the 
light.  "What!  all  alone  in  this  darkness, 
Emily?  .  .  .  Shall  I  light  your  candles?" 
She  had  to  repeat  the  question  before  she 
could  get  an  answer. 

"  No,  thank  you ;  I  want  nothing ;  I  have 
no  wish  to  see  anything.  I  like  the  dark." 

"  Have  you  been  asleep? " 

"  No,  I  have  not.  .  .  .  Why  do  you  come 
to  torment  me?  It  cannot  matter  to  you 
whether  I  lie  in  the  dark  or  the  light.  Oh, 
take  that  candle  away!  it  is  blinding  me." 
Julia  put  the  candle  on  the  washstand.  Then, 
full  of  pity  for  the  grieving  girl,  she  stood, 
her  hand  resting  on  the  bed-rail. 

"  Aren't  you  coming  down  to  dinner, 
Emily  ?  Come,  let  me  pour  out  some  water  for 
you.  When  you  have  bathed  your  eyes " 


214  VAIN  FORTUNE 

"  I  don't  want  any  dinner." 

"  It  will  look  very  strange  if  you  remain  in 
your  room  the  whole  evening.  You  do  not 
want  to  vex  him,  do  you?" 

"I  suppose  he  is  very  angry  with  me. 
But  I  did  not  mean  to  vex  him.  Is  he  very 
angry?" 

"  No,  he  is  not  angry  at  all ;  he  is  merely 
distressed.  You  distress  him  dreadfully 
when — 

"I  don't  know  why  I  should  distress  him. 
I'm  sure  I  don't  mean  to.  You  know  more 
about  it  than  I.  You  are  always  whispering 
together — talking  about  me." 

"I  assure  you,  Emily,  you  are  mistaken. 
Mr.  Price  and  I  have  no  secrets  whatever." 

"  Why  should  you  tell  me  these  falsehoods  ? 
They  make  me  so  miserable." 

"  Falsehoods,  Emily  !  When  did  you  ever 
know  me  to  tell  a  falsehood?  " 

"You  say  you  have  no  secrets!  Do  you 
think  I  am  blind?  You  think,  I  suppose, 
I  did  not  see  you  showing  him  a  ring  ?  You 
took  it  off,  too ;  and  I  suppose  you  gave  it  to 
him — an  engagement  ring,  very  likely." 

"  I  lost  a  stone  from  my  ring,  and  I  asked 
Mr.  Price  if  he  would  take  the  ring  to  London 


VAIN  FORTUNE  215    ,-m 

and  have  the  stone  replaced.  .  .  .  That  is  all. 
So  you  see  how  your  imagination  has  run 
away  with  you." 

Emily  did  not  answer.  At  last  she  said, 
breaking  the  silence  abruptly : 

"Is  he  very  angry?  Has  he  gone  to  his 
study?  Do  you  think  he  will  come  down  to 
dinner?" 

"  I  suppose  he'll  come  down  for  dinner." 

"Will  you  go  and  ask  him?" 

"  I  hardly  see  how  I  can  do  that.  He  is 
very  busy.  .  .  .  And  if  you  would  listen  to 
any  advice  of  mine,  it  would  be  to  leave  him 
to  himself  as  much  as  possible  for  the  present. 
He  is  so  taken  up  with  his  play ;  I  know  he's 
most  anxious  about  it." 

"Is  he?  I  don't  know.  He  never  speaks 
to  me  about  it.  I  hate  that  play,  and  I  hate 
to  see  him  go  up  to  that  study !  I  cannot 
understand  why  he  should  trouble  himself 
about  writing  plays;  he  doesn't  want  the 
money,  and  it  can't  be  agreeable  sitting  up 
there  all  alone  thinking.  ...  It  is  easy  to  see 
that  it  only  makes  him  unhappy.  But  you 
encourage  him  to  go  on  with  it.  Oh,  yes,  you 
do  ;  there's  no  use  in  saying  you  don't.  You 
are  always  talking  to  him  about  it ;  you  bring 


216  VAIN  FORTUNE 

the  conversation  up.  You  think  I  don't  see 
how  you  do  it,  but  T  do ;  and  you  like  doing 
it,  because  then  you  have  him  all  to  yourself. 
I  can't  talk  to  him  about  that  play;  and  I 
wouldn't  if  I  could,  for  it  only  makes  him  un- 
happy. But  you  don't  care  whether  he's  un- 
happy or  not ;  you  think  only  of  yourself." 

"You  surely  don't  believe  what  you  are 
saying  is  true  ?  To-morrow  you  will  be  sorry 
for  what  you  have  said.  You  cannot  think 
that  I  would  deceive  you,  Emily  ?  Remem- 
ber what  friends  we  have  been." 

"I  remember  everything.  You  think  I. 
don't;  but  I  do.  And  you  think  also  that 
there's  no  reason  why  I  should  be  miserable ; 
but  there  is.  Because  you  do  not  feel  my 
misery,  you  think  it  doesn't  exist.  I  dare  say 
you  think,  too,  that  you  are  very  good  and 
kind ;  but  you  aren't.  You  think  you  deceive 
me ;  but  you  don't.  I  know  all  that  is  pass- 
ing between  you  and  Hubert  I  know  a  great 
deal  more  than  I  can  explain.  .  .  ." 

"But  tell  me,  Emily,  what  is  it  you  sus- 
pect ?  What  do  you  accuse  me  of  ?  " 

"I  accuse  you  of  nothing.  Can't  you  un- 
derstand that  things  may  go  wrong  without 
it  being  any  one's  fault  in  particular?" 


VAIN  FORTUNE  217 

Julia  wondered  how  Emily  could  think  so 
wisely.  She  seemed  to  have  grown  wiser  in 
her  grief.  But  grief  helped  her  no  further 
in  her  instinctive  perception  of  the  truth,  and 
she  resumed  her  puerile  attack  on  her  friend. 

"Nothing  has  gone  well  with  me  ever  since 
you  came  here.  I  was  disinherited ;  and  I 
dare  say  you  were  glad,  for  you  knew  that  if 
the  money  did  not  come  to  me  it  would  go  to 
Hubert,  and  I  do  know— 

"What  are  you  saying,  Emily?  I  never 
heard  of  such  wild  accusations  before  !  You 
know  very  well  that  I  never  set  eyes  on  Mr. 
Price  until  he  came  down  here." 

"  How  should  I  know  what  you  know  or 
don't  know?  But  I  know  that  all  my  life 
every  one  has  been  plotting  against  me.  And 
I  cannot  make  out  why.  I  never  did  harm  to 
any  one." 

The  conversation  paused.  Emily  flung  her- 
self back  on  the  pillow.  Not  even  a  sob.  The 
candle  burned  like  a  long  yellow  star  in  the 
shadows,  yielding  only  sufficient  light  for 
Julia  to  see  the  outlines  of  a  somewhat  untidy 
room — an  old-fashioned  mahogany  wardrobe, 
cloudy  and  black,  upon  old-fashioned  gray 
paper,  some  cardboard  boxes,  and  a  number  of 


218  VAIN  FORTUNE 

china  ornaments,  set  out  on  a  small  table  cov- 
ered with  a  table-cloth  in  crewel  work. 

"  I  would  do  anything  in  the  world  for  you, 
Emily.  I  am  your  best  friend,  and  yet — 

"I  have  no  friend.  I  don't  believe  in 
friends.  You  think  people  are  your  friends, 
and  then  you  find  they  are  not." 

"  How  can  I  convince  you  of  the  injustice 
of  your  suspicions?  " 

"I  see  all  plainly  enough;  it  is  fate,  I 
suppose.  .  .  .  Selfishness.  We  all  think  of 
ourselves — we  can't  help  it ;  and  that's  what 
makes  life  so  miserable.  .  .  .  He  would 
be  a  very  good  match.  You  have  got  him  to 
like  you.  Perhaps  you  didn't  intend  to  ;  but 
you  have  done  it  all  the  same." 

"  But,  Emily,  dear,  listen !  There  is  no 
question  of  marriage  between  me  and  Mr. 
Price.  If  you  will  only  have  patience,  things 
will  come  right  in  the  end." 

"  For  you,  perhaps." 

"  Emily,  Emily !  .  .  .  You  should  try  to 
understand  things  better." 

"  I  feel  them,  even  if  I  don't  understand." 

"  Admit  that  you  were  wrong  about  the 
ring.  Have  I  not  convinced  you  that  you 
were  wrong  ?  " 


VAIN  FORTUNE  219 

Emily  did  not  answer.  But  at  the  end  of  a 
long  silence,  in  which  she  had  been  pursuing 
a  different  train  of  thought,  she  said  :  "  Then 
you  mean  that  he  has  never  asked  you  to 
marry  him  ?  " 

The  directness  of  the  question  took  Julia 
by  surprise,  and,  falsehood  being  unnatural  to 
her,  she  hesitated,  hardly  knowing  what  to 
answer.  Her  hesitation  was  only  momentary ; 
but  in  that  moment  there  came  up  such  a 
wave  of  pity  for  the  grief-stricken  girl  that 
she  lied  for  pity's  sake.  "  No,  he  never  asked 
me  to  marry  him.  I  assure  you  that  he  never 

did.  If  you  do  not  believe  me "  As  she 

was  about  to  say,  "I  will  swear  it  if  you 
like,'.'  an  irresponsible  sensation  of  pride  in 
her  ownership  of  his  love  surged  up  through 
her,  overwhelming  her  will,  and  she  ended 
the  sentence,  "  I  am  very  sorry,  but  I  cannot 
help  it." 

The  words  were  still  well  enough;  it  was  in 
the  accent  that  the  truth  transpired.  And 
then  yielding  still  further  to  the  force  which 
had  subjugated  her  will,  she  said : 

"I  admit  that  we  have  talked  about  a  great 
many  things."  (Again  she  strove  not  to 
speak,  but  the  words  rose  red-hot  to  her  lips.) 


220  VAIN  FORTUNE 

"  He  had  said  that  he  would  like  to  marry, 
but  I  should  not  think  of  accepting " 

"Then  it  is  just  as  I  thought!"  Emily 
cried ;  "  he  wants  to  get  rid  of  me ! " 

Julia  was  shocked  and  surprised  at  the 
depth  of  disgraceful  vanity  and  cowardice 
which  special  circumstances  had  brought 
within  her  consciousness.  The  Julia  Bentley 
of  the  last  few  moments  was  not  the  Julia 
Bentley  she  was  accustomed  to  meet  and  in- 
terrogate, and  she  asked  herself  how  she 
might  exorcise  the  meanness  that  had  so  un- 
expectedly appeared  in  her.  Should  she  pile 
falsehood  on  falsehood  ?  She  felt  it  would  be 
cruel  not  to  do  so  ;  but  Emily  said  :  "  He  wants 
to  marry  to  get  rid  of  me,  and  not  because  he 
loves  you."  Then  it  was  hard  to  deny  herself 
the  pleasure  of  telling  the  whole  truth  ;  but  she 
mastered  her  desire  of  triumph,  and  actuated 
by  nothing  but  sincerest  love  and  pity,  she  said : 

"  Oh,  Emily,  dear,  he  never  asked  me  to 
marry  him  ;  he  does  not  love  me  at  all !  Why 
will  you  not  believe  me  ?  " 

"  Because  I  cannot !  "  she  cried  passion- 
ately. "  I  only  ask  to  be  left  alone." 

"  A  little  patience,  Emily,  and  all  will  come 
right.  Mr.  Price  does  not  want  to  get  rid  of 


VAIN  FORTUNE  221 

you.  You  wrong  him  just  as  you  wrong  me. 
He  has  often  said  how  much  he  likes  you ; 
indeed  he  has."  Although  speaking  from  the 
bottom  of  her  heart,  it  seemed  to  Julia  that 
she  was  playing  the  part  of  a  cruel,  false 
woman,  who  was  designingly  plotting  to  betray 
a  helpless  girl ;  and  not  understanding  why 
this  was  so,  she  was  at  once  puzzled  and  con- 
fused. It  seemed  to  her  that  she  was  being 
borne  on  in  a  wind  of  destiny,  and  her  will 
seemed  to  beat  vainly  against  it,  like  a  bird's 
wings  when  a  storm  is  blowing.  She  ,,was 
conscious  of  a  curious  powerlessness ;  it  sur- 
prised her,  and  she  could  not  understand  why 
she  continued  talking,  so  vain  and  useless  did 
words  seem  to  her — an  idle  patter.  She  con- 
tinued : 

"  You  think  that  I  stand  between  you  and 
Mr.  Price.  Now,  I  assure  you  that  is  not  so. 
I  tell  you  I  should  refuse  Mr.  Price,  even  if  he 
were  to  ask  me  to  marry  him,  here,  at  this 
very  moment.  I  pledge  you  my  word  on  this. 
Give  me  your  hand,  Emily.  You  will  not 
refuse  it?"  Emily  gave  her  hand.  "It  is 
quite  ridiculous  to  promise,  for  he  will  never 
ask  me  ;  but  I  promise  not  to  marry  him  even 
if  he  should  ask  me."  She  gave  the  promise, 


222  VAIN  FORTUNE 

determined  to  keep  it ;  and  yet  she  knew  she 
would  not  keep  it  She  argued  passionately 
with  herself,  a  prey  to  an  inward  dread;  for 
no  matter  how  firmly  she  forced  resolution 
upon  resolution,  they  all  seemed  to  melt  in  her 
soul  like  snow  on  a  blazing  fire.  Then,  de- 
termined to  rid  herself  of  a  numb  sensation  of 
powerlessness,  and  achieve  the  end  she  de- 
sired, she  said :  "  I'll  tell  you,  Emily,  what  I'll 
do.  I'll  not  stay  here  ;  I  will  go  away.  Let 
me  go  away,  dear,  and  then  it  will  be  all  right." 

"5To,  no!  you  mustn't  leave;  I  don't  want 
you  to  leave.  It  would  be  said  everywhere 
that  I  had  sent  you  away.  .  .  .  You  promise 
me  not  to  leave  ?  "  Raising  herself,  Emily 
clung  to  Julia's  arm,  detaining  her  until  she 
had  extorted  the  desired  promise. 

"Very  well;  I  promise,"  she  said  sadly. 
"  But  I  think  you  are  wrong  ;  indeed  I  do.  I 
have  always  thought  that '  the  only  solution  of 
the  problem'  was  my  departure."  Memory 
had  betrayed  her  into  Hubert's  own  phrase. 

"  Why  should  you  go?  You  think,  I  sup- 
pose, that  I'm  in  love  with  Hubert?  I'm 
not.  All  I  want  is  for  things  to  go  on  just 
the  same — for  us  to  be  friends  as  we  were 
before." 


VAIN  FORTUNE  223 

"  Very  well,  Emily — very  well.  .  .  .  But 
in  the  meantime  you  must  not  neglect  your 
meals  as  you  have  been  doing  lately.  If  you 
don't  take  care  you'll  lose  your  health  and 
your  looks.  I  have  been  noticing  how  thin 
you  are  looking." 

"  I  suppose  you  have  told  him  that  I  am 
looking  thin  and  ill.  .  .  .  Men  like  tall,  big, 
healthy  women  like  you — don't  they?" 

"  I  see,  Emily,  that  it  is  hopeless ;  every 
word  one  utters  is  misinterpreted.  Dinner 
will  be  ready  in  a  few  minutes ;  or,  if  you 
like,  I  will  dine  up-stairs ;  and  you  and  Mr. 
Price » 

"  But  is  he  coming  down  to  dinner  ?  I 
thought  you  said  he  had  gone  to  his  study ; 
sometimes  he  dines  there." 

"  I  can  tell  you  nothing  about  Mr.  Price.  I 
don't  know  whether  he'll  dine  up-stairs  or 
down." 

At  that  moment  a  knock  was  heard  at  the 
door,  and  the  servant  announced  that  dinner 
was  ready.  "  Mr.  Price  has  sent  down  word, 
ma'am,  that  he  is  very  busy  writing ;  he  hopes 
you'll  excuse  him,  and  he'll  be  glad  if  you 
will  send  him  his  dinner  up  on  a  tray." 

"  Very  well ;  I  shall  be  down  directly." 


224  VAIN  FORTUNE 

The  slight  interruption  had  sufficed  to  calm 
Julia's  irritation,  and  she  stood  waiting  for 
Emily.  But  seeing  that  she  showed  no  signs 
of  moving,  she  said :  "  Aren't  you  coming 
down  to  dinner,  Emily  ?  "  It  was  a  sense  of 
strict  duty  that  impelled  the  question,  for  her 
heart  sank  at  the  prospect  of  spending  the 
evening  alone  with  the  girl.  But  seeing  the 
tears  on  Emily's  cheeks,  she  sat  down  beside 
her,  and  said:  "Dearest  Emily,  if  you  would 
only  confide  in  me ! " 

"  There's  nothing  to  confide.  .  .  ." 

"  You  mustn't  give  way  like  this ;  you 
really  mustn't.  Come  down  and  have  some 
dinner." 

"  It  is  no  use ;  I  couldn't  eat  anything." 

"He  may  come  into  the  drawing-room  in 
the  course  of  the  evening,  and  will  be  so  dis- 
appointed and  grieved  to  hear  that  you  have 
not  been  down." 

"No;  he  will  spend  the  whole  evening  in 
his  room ;  we  shall  not  see  him  again." 

"  But  if  I  go  and  ask  him  to  come ;  if  I  tell 
him- 

"  No ;  do  not  speak  to  him  about  me ;  he'd 
only  say  that  I  was  interfering  with  his  work." 

"That  is  unjust,  Emily;  he  has  never  re- 


VAIN  FORTUNE  225 

preached  you  with  interfering  with  his  work. 
Shall  I  go  and  tell  him  that  you  won't  come 
down  because  you  think  he  is  angry  with 
you  ?  " 

Ten  minutes  passed,  and  no  answer  could 
be  obtained  from  Emily — only  passionate  and 
illusive  refusals,  denials,  prayer  to  be  left 
alone ;  and  these  mingled  with  irritating  sug- 
gestions that  Julia  had  better  go  at  once,  that 
Hubert  might  be  waiting  for  her.  But  Julia 
bore  patiently  with  her,  and  did  not  leave  her 
until  Hubert  sent  to  know  why  his  dinner 
was  delayed. 

Emily  had  begun  to  undress  ;  and,  tearing 
off  her  things,  she  hardly  took  more  than  five 
minutes  to  get  into  bed. 

"  Shall  I  light  a  candle  ?  "  Julia  asked  before 
leaving. 

"  No,  thank  you." 

"  Shall  I  send  you  up  some  soup  ?  " 

"  No  ;  I  could  not  touch  it" 

"  You  are  not  going  to  remain  in  the  dark  ? 
Let  me  light  a  night-light  ?  " 

"  No,  thank  you;  I  like  the  dark." 
15 


CHAPTEE  XIV. 

HUBERT  and  Mrs.  Bentley  stood  by  the  chim- 
ney-piece in  the  drawing-room,  waiting  for  the 
doctor ;  they  had  left  him  with  Emily,  and 
stood  facing  each  other,  absorbed  in  thought, 
when  the  door  opened,  and  the  doctor  entered. 
Hubert  said : 

"  What  do  you  think,  doctor  ?  Is  she  seri- 
ously ill?" 

"  There  is  nothing,  so  far  as  I  can  make  out, 
organically  the  matter  with  her,  but  the  sys- 
tem is  running  down.  She  is  very  thin  and 
weak.  I  shall  prescribe  a  tonic,  but " 

"But  what,  doctor?" 

"She  seems  to  be  suffering  from  extreme 
depression  of  spirits.  Do  you  know  of  any 
secret  grief — any  love  affair?  At  her  age, 
anything  of  that  sort  fills  the  entire  mind, 
and  the  consequences  are  often  grave." 

"And  supposing  it  were  so,  what  would  be 
your  advice  ?  Change  of  air  and  scene  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"  Have  you  spoken  to  her  on  the  subject  ?  " 


VAIN  FORTUNE  227 

"  Yes ;  but  she  says  she  will  not  leave  Ash- 
wood." 

"  We  cannot  send  her  away  by  force.  What 
would  you  advise  us  to  do  ?  " 

"  There's  nothing  to  be  done.  We  must 
hope  for  the  best  There  is  no  immediate 
cause  for  fear.  .  .  .  But,  by  the  way,  she 
looks  as  if  she  suffered  from  sleeplessness." 

"  Yes,  she  does ;  but  she  has  been  ordered 
chloral.  Any  harm  in  that  ?  " 

"  In  her  case,  it  is  a  necessity  ;  but  do  you 
think  she  takes  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  she  has  been  taking  chloral." 

The  conversation  paused ;  the  doctor  went 
over  to  the  writing-table,  wrote  a  prescription, 
made  a  few  remarks,  and  took  his  leave, 
announcing  his  intention  of  returning  that 
day  fortnight. 

Hubert  said,  and  his  tone  implied  reference 
to  some  anterior  conversation,  "  We  are  power- 
less in  this  matter.  You  see  we  can  do  noth- 
ing. We  only  succeed  in  making  ourselves 
unhappy  ;  we  do  not  change  in  anything.  I 
am  wretchedly  unhappy ! " 

"  Believe  me,"  she  said,  raising  her  arms  in 
a  beautiful  feminine  movement,  "I  do  not 
wish  to  make  you  unhappy." 


228  VAIN  FORTUNE 

"  Then  why  do  you  persist  ?  Why  do  you 
refuse  to  take  the  only  step  that  may  lead  us 
out  of  this  difficulty  ?  " 

"  How  can  you  ask  me  ?  Oh,  Hubert,  I 
did  not  think  you  could  be  so  cruel !  It  would 
be  a  shameful  action." 

It  was  the  first  time  she  had  used  his  Chris- 
tian name,  and  his  face  changed  expression, 

"  I  cannot,"  she  said,  "  and  I  will  not;  and 
I  do  not  understand  how  you  can  ask  me — 
you  who  are  so  loyal,  how  can  you  ask  me  to 
be  disloyal  ?  " 

"  Spare  me  your  reproaches.  Fate  has  been 
cruel.  I  have  never  told  you  the  story  of 
my  life.  I  have  suffered  deeply ;  my  pride 
has  been  humiliated,  and  I  have  endured  hun- 
ger and  cold  ;  but  those  sufferings  were  light 
compared  to  this  last  misfortune." 

She  looked  at  him  with  sublime  pity  in 
her  eyes.  "  I  do  not  conceal  from  you," 
she  said,  "  that  I  love  you  very  much.  I,  too, 
have  suffered,  and  I  had  thought  for  one 
moment  that  fate  had  vouchsafed  me  happi- 
ness ;  but,  as  you  would  say — the  irony  of 
life !  " 

"  Julia,  do  not  say  you  never  will  ?  " 

"  We  cannot  look   into  the   futura     But 


VAIN  FORTUNE  229 

this  I  can  say — I  will  not  do  Emily  any 
wrong,  and  so  far  as  is  in  my  power  I  will 
avoid  giving  her  pain.  There  is  only  one 
way  out  of  this  difficulty.  I  must  leave 
this  house  as  soon  as  I  can  persuade  her  to 
let  me  go." 

The  door  opened;  involuntarily  the  speak- 
ers moved  apart ;  and  though  their  faces  and 
attitudes  were  strictly  composed  when  Emily 
entered,  she  knew  they  had  been  standing 
closer  together. 

"  I'm  afraid  I'm  interrupting  you,"  she 
said. 

"  No,  Emily ;  pray  do  not  go  away.  We 
were  only  talking  about  you." 

"If  I  were  to  leave  every  time  you  begin 
to  talk  about  me,  I  should  spend  my  life  in 
my  room.  I  dare  say  you  have  many  faults 
to  find.  Let  me  hear  all  about  your  fresh 
discoveries." 

It  was  a  thin  November  day :  leaves  were 
whirling  on  the  lawn,  and  at  that  moment 
one  blew  rustling  down  the  window-pane. 
And,  even  as  it,  she  seemed  a  passing  thing. 
Her  face  was  like  a  plate  of  fine  white  porce- 
lain, and  the  deep  eyes  filled  it  with  a  strange 
and  magnetic  pathos ;  the  abundant  chestnut 


230  VAIN  FORTUNE 

hair  hung  in  the  precarious  support  of  a  thin 
tortoise  shell;  and  there  was  something 
unforgetable  in  the  manner  in  which  her 
aversion  for  the  elder  woman  betrayed  itself 
— a  mere  nothing,  and  yet  more  impressive 
than  any  more  obvious  and  therefore  more 
vulgar  expression  of  dislike  would  have  been. 

"  A  little  patience,  Emily.  You  will  not 
have  me  here  much  longer." 

"  I  suppose  that  I  am  so  disagreeable  that 
you  cannot  live  with  me.  Why  should  you 
go  away  ?  " 

"My  dear  Emily,  you  must  not  excite 
yourself.  The  doctor " 

"I  want  to  know  why  she  said  she  was 
going  to  leave.  Has  she  been  complaining 
about  me  to  you  ?  What  is  her  reason  for 
wanting  to  go  ?  " 

"  We  do  not  get  on  together  as  we  used  to 
— that  is  all,  Emily.  I  can  please  you  no 
longer." 

"  It  is  not  my  fault  if  we  do  not  get  on. 
I  don't  see  why  we  shouldn't,  and  I  do  not 
want  you  to  go." 

"  Emily,  dear,  everything  shall  be  as  you 
like  it." 

The  girl  looked  at  him  with  the  shy,  doubt- 


VAIN  FORTUNE  231 

ing  look  of  an  animal  that  would  like,  and 
still  does  not  dare,  to  go  to  the  beckoning  hand. 
How  frail  seemed  the  body  in  the  black 
dress !  and  how  thin  the  'arms  in  the  black 
sleeves !  Hubert  took  the  little  hand  in  his. 
At  his  touch  a  look  of  content  and  rest 
passed  into  her  eyes,  and  she  yielded  herself 
as  the  leaf  yields  to  the  wind.  She  was  all 
his  when  he  chose.  Mrs.  Bentley  left  the 
room ;  and,  seeing  her  go,  a  light  of  sudden 
joy  illuminated  the  thin,  pale  face  ;  and  when 
the  door  closed,  and  she  was  alone. with  him, 
the  bleak,  unhappy  look,  which  had  lately 
grown  strangely  habitual  to  her,  faded  out  of 
her  face  and  eyes.  He  fetched  her  shawl,  and 
took  her  hand  again  in  his,  knowing  that  by 
so  doing  he  made  her  happy.  He  could  not 
refuse  her  the  peace  from  pain  that  these 
attentions  brought  her,  though  he  would  have 
held  himself  aloof  from  all  women  but  one. 
She  knew  the  truth  well  enough ;  but  they 
who  suffer  much  think  only  of  the  cessation 
of  pain.  He  wondered  at  the  inveigling  con- 
tent that  introduced  itself  into  her  voice,  face, 
and  gesture.  Settling  herself  comfortably  on 
the  sofa,  she  said : 

"  Now  tell  me  what  the  doctor  said.     Did 


232  VAIN  FORTUNE 

he  say  I  would  soon  recover  ?  Did  he  say 
that  I  was  very  bad  ?  Tell  me  all." 

"  He  said  that  you  ought  to  have  a  change 
— that  you  should  go  south  somewhere." 

"  And  you  agree  with  him  that  I  ought  to 
go  away  ?  " 

"  Is  he  not  the  best  judge  ? — the  doctor's 
orders ! " 

"  Then  you,  too,  have  learnt  to  hate  me. 
You,  too,  want  to  send  me  away  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Emily,  I  only  want  to  do  as  you 
like.  You  asked  me  what  the  doctor  said, 
and  I  told  you." 

Hubert  got  up  and  walked  aside.  He 
passed  his  hand  across  his  eyes.  He  could 
hardly  contain  himself ;  the  emotion  that  dis- 
cussion with  this  sick  girl  caused  him  went 
to  his  head.  She  looked  at  him  curiously, 
watching  his  movement,  and  he  failed  to 
understand  what  pleasure  it  could  give  her  to 
have  him  by  her  side,  knowing,  as  she  clearly 
did,  that  his  heart  was  elsewhere.  Turning 
suddenly,  he  said : 

"  But  tell  me,  Emily,  how  are  you  feeling  ? 
You  are,  after  all,  the  best  judge." 

"I  feel  rather  weak.  I  should  get  strong 
enough  if— 


VAIN  FORTUNE  233 

She  paused,  as  if  waiting  for  Hubert  to  ask 
her  to  finish  the  sentence.  But  he  hurriedly 
turned  the  conversation. 

"  The  doctor  said  you  looked  as  if  you  had 
not  had  any  sleep  for  several  nights.  I  told 
him  that  that  was  strange,  for  you  were  tak- 
ing chloral." 

"  I  sleep  well  enough,"  she  said.  "  But 
sometimes  life  seems  so  sad  that  I  do  not 
think  I  shall  be  able  to  bear  with  it  any 
longer.  You  do  not  know  how  unfortunate 
I  have  been.  When  I  was  a  child,  father  and 
mother  used  to  quarrel  always,  and  I  was  the 
only  child.  That  was  why  Mr.  Burnett 
asked  me  to  come  and  live  at  Ashwood.  I 
came  at  first  on  a  visit ;  and  when  father  and 
mother  died,  he  said  he  wished  to  adopt  me. 
I  thought  he  loved  me  ;  but  his  love  was  only 
selfishness.  No  one  has  ever  loved  me.  I 
feel  so  utterly  alone  in  this  world — that  is 
why  I  am  unhappy." 

Her  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  at  the  sight 
of  her  tears  Hubert's  feelings  were  over- 
wrought, and  again  he  had  to  walk  aside. 
He  would  give  her  all  things  ;  but  she  was 
dying  for  him,  and  he  could  not  save  her. 
No  longer  was  there  any  disguisement  between 


234  VAIN  FORTUNE 

them.  The  words  they  uttered  were  as 
nothing,  so  clearly  did  the  thought  shine  out 
of  their  eyes,  "  I  am  dying  of  love  for  you," 
and  then  the  answer,  "  I  know  that  is  so,  and 
I  cannot  help  it."  Her  whole  soul  was 
spoken  in  her  eyes,  and  he  felt  that  his  eyes 
betrayed  him-equally  plainly.  They  stood  in 
a  sort  of  mental  nakedness.  The  woman  no 
longer  sought  for  words  to  cover  herself  with  ; 
the  man  did,  but  he  did  not  find  them.  They 
had  not  spoken  for  some  time;  they  had 
been  thinking  of  each  other.  At  last  she 
said,  and  with  the  querulous  perversity  of 
the  sick : 

"  But  even  if  I  wished  to  go  abroad,  with 
whom  could  I  go  ?  " 

Hubert  fell  into  the  trap,  and,  noticing  the 
sudden  brightness  in  his  eyes,  a  cloud  of  dis- 
appointment shadowed  hers.  "  Of  course, 
with  Mrs.  Bentley.  I  assure  you,  my  dear 
Emily,  that  you " 

"  No,  no,  I  am  not  mistaken  !  She  hates 
me,  and  I  cannot  bear  her.  It  is  she  who  is 
making  me  ill." 

"  Hate  you  !     Why  should  she  hate  you  ?  " 

Emily  did  not  reply.  Hubert  watched  her, 
noticing  the  pallor  of  her  cheek,  so  entirely 


VAIN  FORTUNE  235 

white  and  blue,  hardly  a  touch  of  warm  color 
anywhere,  even  in  the  shadow  of  the  heavy 
hair. 

"  I  would  give  anything  to  see  you  friends 
again." 

"  That  is  impossible !  I  can  never  be  friends 
with  Julia  as  I  once  was.  She  has —  No, 
never  can  we  be  friends  again.  But  why 
do  you  always  take  her  part  against  me? 
That  is  what  grieves  me  most  If  only  you 
thought " 

"  Emily,  dear,  these  are  but  idle  fancies. 
You  are  mistaken." 

The  conversation  fell.  The  girl  lay  quite 
still,  her  hands  clasped  across  the  shawl,  her 
little  foot  stretched  beyond  the  limp  black 
dress,  the  hem  of  which  fell  orer  the  edge  of 
the  gray  sofa.  Hubert  sat  by  her  on  a  low 
chair,  and  he  looked  into  the  fire,  whose  light 
wavered  over  the  walls,  now  and  again  bring- 
ing the  face  of  one  of  the  pictures  out  of  the 
darkness.  The  wind  whined  about  the  win- 
dows. Then,  speaking  as  if  out  of  a  dream, 
Emily  said : 

"Julia  and  I  can  never  be  friends  again — 
that  is  impossible." 

"  But  what  has  she  done?  "     Hubert  asked 


236  VAIN  FORTUNE 

incautiously,  regretting  his  words  as  soon  as 
he  had  uttered  them. 

"  What  has  she  done  ?  "  she  said,  looking 
at  him  curiously.  "  Well,  one  thing,  she  has 
got  it  reported  that — that  I  am  in  love  with 
you,  and  that  that  is  the  reason  of  my  ill- 
ness." 

"I  am  sure  she  never  said  any  such  thing. 
You  are  entirely  mistaken.  Mrs.  Bentley  is 
incapable  of  such  wickedness." 

"A  woman,  when  she  is  jealous,  will  say 
anything.  If  she  did  not  say  it,  can  you  tell 
me  how  it  got  about  ?  " 

"  I  don't  believe  any  one  ever  said  such  a 
thing." 

"  Oh,  yes,  lots  have  said  so — things  come 
back  to  me.  Julia  always  was  jealous  of  me. 
She  cannot  bear  me  to  speak  to  you.  Have 
you  not  noticed  how  she  follows  us?  Do 
you  think  she  would  have  left  the  room  just 
now  if  she  could  have  helped  it?" 

"  If  you  think  this  is  so,  had  she  not  bet- 
ter leave  ? " 

Emily  did  not  answer  at  once.  Motionless 
she  lay  on  the  sofa,  looking  at  the  gray 
November  day  with  vague  eyes  that  bespoke 
an  obsession  of  hallucination.  Suddenly  she 


VAIN  FORTUNE  237 

said  :  "  I  do  not  want  her  to  go  away.  She 
would  spread  a  report  that  I  was  jealous  of 
her,  and  had  asked  you  to  send  her  away. 
No,  it  would  not  be  wise  to  send  her  away. 
Besides,"  she  said,  fixing  her  eyes,  now  full 
of  melancholy  reproach,  "  you  would  like  her 
to  remain." 

"  I  have  said  before,  Emily,  and  I  assure 
you  I  am  speaking  the  truth,  I  want  you  to 
do  what  you  like.  Say  what  you  wish  to  be 
done,  and  it  shall  be  done." 

"  Is  that  really  true  ?  I  thought  no  one 
cared  for  me.  You  must  care  for  me  a  little 
to  speak  like  that." 

"  Of  course  I  care  for  you,  Emily." 

"  I  sometimes  think  you  might  have  if  it 
had  not  been  for  that  play ;  for,  of  course,  I'm 
not  clever,  and  cannot  discuss  it  with  you. 
.  .  .  Julia,  I  suppose,  can — that  is  the  rea- 
son why  you  like  her.  Am  I  not  right  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Bentley  is  a  clever  woman,  who  has 
read  a  great  deal,  and  I  like  to  talk  an  act 
over  with  her  before  I  write  it." 

"  Is  that  all  ?  Then  why  do  people  say 
you  are  going  to  marry  her  ?  " 

"  But  nobody  ever  said  so." 

"  Oh  yes,  they  have.     Is  it  true?  " 


238  VAIN  FORTUNE 

"  No,  Emily ;  it  is  not  true." 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  ?  " 

"  Yes,  quite  sure." 

"  If  that  is  so,"  she  said,  turning  her  eyes 
on  Hubert,  and  looking  as  if  she  could  see 
right  down  into  his  soul,  "  I  shall  get  well 
very  soon.  Then  we  can  go  on  just  the  same; 
but  if  you  married  her,  I " 

"I  what?" 

"  Nothing !  I  feel  quite  happy  now.  I 
did  not  want  you  to  marry  her.  I  could  not 
bear  it  It  would  be  like  having  a  step- 
mother— worse,  for  she  would  not  have  me 
here  at  all ;  she  would  drive  me  away." 

Hubert  shook  his  head. 

"You  don't  know  Julia  as  well  as  I  do. 
However,  it  is  no  use  discussing  what  is  not 
going  to  be.  You  have  been  very  nice  to-day. 
If  you  would  be  always  nice  as  you  are  to- 
day, I  should  soon  get  well." 

Her  pale  profile  seemed  very  sharp  in  the 
fading  twilight,  and  her  delicate  arms  and 
thin  bosom  were  full  of  the  charm  and  fas- 
cination of  deciduous  things.  She  turned  her 
face  and  looked  at  Hubert  "You  have  made 
me  very  happy.  I  am  content" 

He  was  afraid  to  look  back  at  her,  lest  she 


VAIN  FORTUNE  239 

should,  in  her  subtle,  wilful  manner,  read  the 
thought  that  was  passing  in  his  soul.  Even 
now  she  seemed  to  read  it.  She  seemed  con- 
scious of  his  pity  for  her.  So  little  would 
give  her  happiness,  and  that  little  was  im- 
possible. His  heart  was  irreparably  another's. 
But  though  Emily's  eyes  seemed  to  know  all, 
they  seemed  to  say,  "  What  matter?  I  regret 
nothing,  only  let  things  remain  as  they  are." 
And  then  her  voice  said : 

"  I  think  I  could  sleep  a  little ;  happiness 
has  brought  me  sleep.  Don't  go  away.  I 
shall  not  be  asleep  long."  She  looked  at 
him,  and  dozed,  and  then  fell  asleep.  Hubert 
waited  till  her  breathing  grew  deeper ;  then 
he  laid  the  hand  he  held  in  his  by  her  side, 
and  stole  on  tiptoe  from  the  room. 

The  strain  of  the  interview  had  become  too 
intense ;  the  house  was  unbearable.  He  went 
into  the  air.  The  November  sky  was  draw- 
ing into  wintry  night ;  the  gray  clouds  dark- 
ened, clinging  round  the  long  plain,  over- 
shadowing it,  blotting  out  color,  leaving 
nothing  but  the  severe  green  of  the  park, 
and  the  yellow  whirling  of  dishevelled  woods. 

"I  must,"  he  said  to  himself,  "think  no 
more  about  it  I  shall  go  mad  if  I  do.  Na- 


240  VAIN  FORTUNE 

ture  will  find  her  own  solution.  God  grant 
that  it  may  be  a  merciful  one !  I  can  do 
nothing."  And  to  escape  from  useless  con- 
sideration, to  release  his  overwrought  brain, 
he  hastened  his  steps,  extending  his  walk 
through  the  farthest  woods.  As  he  ap- 
proached the  lodge  gate  he  came  upon  Mrs. 
Bentley.  She  stood,  her  back  turned  from 
him,  leaning  on  the  gate,  her  thoughts  lost 
in  the  long  darkness  of  autumnal  fields  and 
woods. 

"Julia!" 

"  You  have  left  Emily.  How  did  you  leave 
her?" 

"She  is  fast  asleep  on  the  sofa.  She  fell 
asleep.  Then  why  should  I  remain  ?  The 
house  was  unbearable.  She  went  to  sleep, 
saying  she  felt  very  happy." 

"  Really  !  What  induced  such  a  change  in 
her  ?  Did  you " 

"  No,  I  did  not  ask  her  to  marry  me ;  but 
I  was  able  to  tell  her  that  I  was  not  going  to 
marry  you,  and  that  seemed  entirely  to  satisfy 
her." 

"  Did  she  ask  you  ?  " 

"  Yes.  And  when  I  told  her  I  was  not,  she 
said  that  that  was  all  she  wanted  to  know — that 


VAIN  FORTUNE  241 

she  would  soon  get  well  now.  How  we  human 
beings  thrive  in  each  other's  unhappiness ! " 

"  Quite  true,  and  we  have  been  reproaching 
ourselves  for  our  selfishness." 

"Yes,  and  hers  is  infinitely  greater.  She 
is  quite  satisfied  not  to  be  happy  herself,  so 
long  as  she  can  make  sure  of  our  unhappiness. 
And  what  is  so  strange  is  her  utter  uncon- 
sciousness of  her  own  fantastic  and  hardly 
conceivable  selfishness.  ...  It  is  astonish- 
ing!" 

uShe  is  very  young,  and  the  young  are 
naturally  egotistic." 

"  Possibly.  Still,  it  is  hardly  more  agree- 
able to  encounter.  Come,  let's  go  for  a  walk ; 
and,  above  all  things,  let's  talk  no  more  about 
Emily." 

The  roads  were  greasy,  and  the  hedges  were 
torn  and  worn  with  incipient  winter,  and  when 
they  dipped  the  town  appeared,  a  reddish- 
brown  mass  in  the  blue  landscape.  Hubert 
thought  of  his  play  and  his  love ;  but  not  sep- 
arately— they  seemed  to  him  now  as  one  in- 
dissoluble, indivisible  thing :  and  he  told  her 
that  he  never  would  be  able  to  write  it  with- 
out her  assistance.  That  she  might  be  of  use 
to  him  in  his  work  was  singularly  sweet  to 
16 


242  VAIN  FORTUNE 

hear,  and  the  thought  reached  to  the  end  of 
her  heart,  causing  her  to  smile  sadly,  and  argue 
vainly,  and  him  to  reply  querulously.  They 
walked  for  about  a  mile;  and  then,  wearied 
with  sad  expostulation,  the  conversation  fell, 
and  at  the  end  of  a  long  silence  Julia  said  : 

"  I  think  we  had  better  turn  back." 

The  suggestion  filled  Hubert's  heart  with 
rushing  pain,  and  he  answered  : 

"  Why  should  we  return  ?  I  cannot  go  back 
to  that  girl.  Oh,  the  miserable  life  we  are 
leading !" 

"What  can  we  do?  We  must  go  back; 
we  cannot  live  in  a  tent  by  the  wayside.  We 
have  no  tent  to  set  up." 

"  Come  to  London  and  be  my  wife." 

"  No,"  she  said ;  "  that  is  impossible.  Let 
us  not  speak  of  it." 

Hubert  did  not  answer ;  and  turning  their 
faces  homeward,  they  walked  some  way  in 
silence.  Suddenly  Hubert  said  : 

"  No,  it  is  impossible.  I  cannot  return. 
There  is  no  use.  I'm  at  the  end  of  my 
tether.  I  cannot." 

She  looked  at  him  in  alarm. 

"  Hubert,"  she  said,  "  this  is  folly !  I  can- 
not return  without  you." 


VAIN  FORTUNE  243 

"  You  ruin  my  life ;  you  refuse  me  the  only 
happiness.  I'm  more  wretched  than  I  can 
tell  you ! " 

"  And  I !  Do  you  think  that  I'm  not  wretch- 
ed ?  "  She  raised  her  face  to  his ;  her  eyes 
were  full  of  tears.  He  caught  her  in  his  arms 
and  kissed  her.  The  warm  touch  of  her  lips, 
the  scent  of  her  face  and  hair,  banished  all 
but  desire  of  her. 

li  You  must  come  with  me,  Julia.  I  shall 
go  mad  if  you  don't.  I  can  care  for  no  one 
but  you.  All  my  life  is  in  you  now.  You 
know  I  cannot  love  that  girl,  and  we  cannot 
continue  in  this  wretched  life.  There  is  no 
sense  in  it ;  it  is  a  voluntary,  senseless  martyr- 
dom!" 

"Hubert,  do  not  tempt  me  to  be  disloyal  to 
my  friend.  It  is  cruel  of  you,  for  you  know 
I  love  you.  But  no,  nothing  shall  tempt  me. 
How  can  I?  We  do  not  know  what  might 
happen.  The  shock  might  kill  her.  She 
might  do  away  with  herself." 

"  You  must  come  with  me,"  said  Hubert, 
now  completely  lost  in  his  passion.  "  Noth- 
ing will  happen.  Girls  do  not  do  away  with 
themselves;  girls  do  not  die  of  broken  hearts. 
Nothing  happens  in  these  days.  A  few  more 


244  VAIN  FORTUNE 

tears  will  be  shed,  and  she  will  soon  become 
reconciled  to  what  cannot  be  altered.  A  year 
or  so  after,  we  will  marry  her  to  a  nice  young 
man,  and  she  will  settle  down  a  quiet  moth- 
er of  children." 

"Perhaps  you  are  right." 

An  empty  fly,  returning  to  the  town,  passed 
them.  The  fly-man  raised  his  whip. 

"  Take  you  to  the  railway  station  in  ten 
minutes  ?  " 

Hubert  spoke  quietly  ;  nevertheless  there 
was  a  strange  nervousness  in  his  eyes  when 
he  said : 

"  Fate  comes  to  help  me ;  she  offers  us 
the  means  of  escape.  You  will  not  refuse, 
Julia?" 

Her  upraised  face  was  full  of  doubt  and 
pain,  and  she  was  perplexed  by  the  fly-man's 
dull  eyes,  his  starved  horse,  his  ramshackle 
vehicle,  the  wet  road,  the  leaden  sky.  It  was 
one  of  those  moments  when  the  familiar  ap- 
pears strange  and  grotesque.  Then,  gathering 
all  her  resolution,  she  said  : 

"  No,  no  ;  it  is  impossible  !  Come  back, 
come  back." 

He  caught  her  arm  :  quietly  and  firmly  he 
led  her  across  the  road.  "  You  must  listen  to 


VAIN  FORTUNE  245 

ma  .  .  .  We  are  about  to  take  a  decisive 
step.  Are  you  sure  that " 

"  No,  no,  Hubert,  I  cannot ;  let  us  return 
home." 

"I  go  back  to  Ash  wood  !  If  I  did  I  should 
commit  suicide." 

"  Don't  speak  like  that.  .  .  .  Where  will 
you  go?" 

"  I  shall  travel.  ...  I  shall  visit  Italy 
and  Greece.  ...  I  shall  live  abroad." 

"  You  are  not  serious  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  am,  Julia.  That  cab  may  not 
take  both,  but  it  will  certainly  take  one  of 
us  away  from  Ashwood,  and  forever." 

"Take  you  to  South  Water,  sir — take  you 
to  the  station  in  ten  minutes,"  said  the  fly- 
man, pulling  in  his  horse.  A  zig-zag  fugitive 
thought  passed :  why  did  the  fly-man  speak 
of  taking  them  to  the  station  ?  How  was  it 
that  he  knew  where  they  wanted  to  go  ?  They 
stopped  and  wondered.  The  poor  horse's 
bones  stood  out  in  strange  projections,  the 
round-shouldered  little  fly-man  sat  grinning 
on  his  box,  showing  three  long  yellow  fangs. 
The  vehicle,  the  horse,  and  the  man,  his  arm 
raised  in  questioning  gesture,  appeared  in 
strange  silhouette  upon  the  gray  clouds,  as- 


246  VAIN  FORTUNE 

surning  portentous  aspect  in  their  tremulous 
and  excited  imaginations.  "  Take  you  to 
South  Water  in  ten  minutes !  "  The  voice 
of  the  fly-man  sounded  hard,  grating,  and  de- 
risive in  their  ears. 

He  had  stopped  in  the  middle  of  the  road, 
and  they  walked  slowly  past,  through  a  great 
puddle,  which  drenched  their  feet. 

"  Get  in,  Julia.    Shall  I  open  the  door?  " 

"  No,  no  ;  think  of  Emily.  I  cannot,  Hu- 
bert— I  cannot ;  it  would  kill  her." 

The  conversation  paused,  and  in  a  long 
silence  they  wondered  if  the  fly-man  had 
heard.  Then  they  walked  several  yards,  lis- 
tening to  the  tramp  of  the  hoofs,  and  then 
they  heard  the  fly-man  strike  his  horse  with 
the  whip.  The  animal  shuffled  into  a  sort  of 
trot,  and  as  the  carriage  passed  them  the  fly- 
man again  raised  his  arm  and  again  repeated 
the  same  phrase,  "  Drive  you  to  the  station  in 
ten  minutes  !  "  The  carriage  was  her  tempta- 
tion, and  Julia  hoped  the  man  would  linger 
no  longer.  For  the  promise  she  had  given  to 
Emily  lay  like  a  red-hot  coal  upon  her  heart; 
its  fumes  rose  to  her  head,  and  there  were 
times  when  she  thought  they  would  choke  her, 
and  she  grew  so  sick  with  the  pain  of  self- 


VAIN  FORTUNE  247 

denial  that  she  could  have  thrown  herself 
down  in  the  wet  grass  on  the  roadside,  and 
laid  her  face  on  the  cold  earth  for  relief. 
Would  nothing  happen  ?  What  madness  ! 
Night  was  coming  on,  and  still  they  followed 
the  road  to  South  Water.  Rain  fell  in  heavy 
drops. 

"We  shall  get  wet,"  she  murmured,  as  if 
she  were  answering  the  fly-man,  who  had  said 
again,  "  Drive  you  to  the  station  in  ten  min- 
utes !  "  She  hated  the  man  for  his  persist- 
ency. 

"  Say  you  will  come  with  me ! "  Hubert 
whispered ;  and  all  the  while  the  rain  came 
down  heavier. 

"  No,  no,  Hubert.  ...  I  cannot ;  I  prom- 
ised Emily  that  I  never  would.  I  am  going 
back." 

"  Then  we  must  say  good-by.  I  will  not 
go  back." 

"  You  don't  mean  it.  You  don't  really  in- 
tend me  to  go  back  to  Emily  and  tell  her? 
.  .  .  She  will  not  believe  me ;  she  will  think 
I  have  sent  you  away  to  gain  my  own  end. 
Hubert,  you  mustn't  leave  me  .  .  .  and  in  all 
this  wet.  See  how  it  rains.  I  shall  never  be 
able  to  get  home  alone." 


248  VAIN  FORTUNE 

"  I  will  drive  you  on  as  far  as  the  lodge 
gate;  further  than  the  lodge  I  will  not  go. 
Nothing  in  the  world  shall  tempt  me  to  pass 
it." 

At  a  sign  from  Hubert  the  little  fly-man 
scrambled  down  from  his  box.  He  was  a  lit- 
tle old  man,  almost  hunchbacked,  with  small, 
mud-colored  eyes  and  a  fringe  of  white  beard 
about  his  sallow,  discolored  face.  He  was 
dressed  in  a  pale-yellow  jacket  and  waistcoat, 
and  they  both  noticed  that  his  crooked  little 
legs  were  covered  with  a  pair  of  pepper-and- 
salt  trousers.  They  felt  sure  he  must  have 
overheard  a  large  part  of  their  conversation, 
for  as  he  opened  the  carriage  door  he  grinned, 
showing  his  three  yellow  fangs.  .  .  .  His 
appearance  was  not  encouragi  ng.  Julia  wished 
he  were  different,  and  then  she  looked  at  Hu- 
bert. She  longed  to  throw  herself  into  his 
arms  and  weep.  But  at  that  moment  the 
heavens  seemed  to  open,  and  the  rain  came 
down  like  a  torrent,  thick  and  fast,  splashing 
all  along  the  road  in  a  million  splashes. 

"Horrible  weather,  sir;  sha'n't  be  long 
a-takin'  you  to  South  Water.  What  part  of 
the  town  be  yer  going  to — the  railway  sta- 
tion?" 


VAIN  FORTUNE  249 

Julia  still  hesitated.  The  rain  beat  on  their 
faces,  and  when  some  chilling  drops  rolled 
down  her  neck  she  instinctively  sought  shel- 
ter in  the  carriage. 

"  Drive  me  to  the  station  as  fast  as  you  can. 
Catch  the  half-past  five  to  London,  and  I'll 
give  you  five  shillings." 

The  leather  thong  sounded  on  the  starved 
animal's  hide,  the  crazy  vehicle  rocked  from 
side  to  side,  and  the  wet  country  almost  dis- 
appeared in  the  darkness.  Hedges  and  fields 
swept  past  them  in  faintest  outline,  here  and 
there  a  blurred  mass,  which  they  recognized 
as  a  farm  building.  His  arm  was  about  her, 
and  she  heard  him  murmur  over  and  over 
again : 

"  Dearest  Julia,  you  are  what  I  love  best  in 
the  world." 

The  words  thrilled  her  a  little,  but  all  the 
while  she  saw  Emily's  eyes  and  heard  her 
voice. 

Hubert,  however,  was  full  of  happiness — 
the  sweet  happiness  of  the  quiet,  docile  creat- 
ure that  has  at  last  obtained  what  it  loves. 


CHAPTER    XY. 

EMILY  awoke  shivering ;  the  fire  had  gone 
out,  the  room  was  in  darkness,  and  the  house 
seemed  strange  and  lonely.  She  rang  the 
bell,  and  asked  the  servant  if  he  had  seen  Mr. 
Price.  Mr.  Price  had  gone  out  late  in  the 
afternoon  and  had  not  come  in.  Where  was 
Mrs.  Bentley  ?  Mrs.  Bentley  had  gone  out 
earlier  in  the  afternoon  and  had  not  come  in. 

She  suspected  the  truth  at  once.  They  had 
gone  to  London  to  be  married.  The  servant 
lighted  a  candle,  made  up  the  fire,  and  asked 
if  she  would  wait  dinner.  Emily  made  no 
answer,  but  sat  still,  her  eyes  fixed,  looking 
into  space.  The  man  lingered  at  the  door. 
At  that  moment  her  little  dog  bounded  into  the 
room,  and,  in  a  paroxysm  of  delight,  jumped 
on  his  mistress's  lap.  She  took  him  in  her 
arms  and  kissed  him,  and  this  somewhat  reas- 
sured the  alarmed  servant,  who  then  thought 
it  was  no  more  than  one  of  Miss  Emily's  queer 
ways.  Dandy  licked  his  mistress's  face,  and 
rubbed  his  rough  head  against  her  shoulder. 


VAIN  FORTUNE  251 

He  seemed  more  than  usually  affectionate  that 
evening.  Suddenly  she  caught  him  up  in  her 
arms  and  kissed  him  passionately.  "  Not  even 
for  your  sake,  dearest  Dandy,  can  I  bear  with 
it  any  longer !  "We  are  all  very  selfish,  and 
it  is  selfish  of  me  to  leave  you,  but  I  cannot 
help  it'1  Then  a  doubt  crossed  her  mind, 
and  she  raised  her  head  and  listened  to  it.  It 
seemed  difficult  to  believe  that  he  had  told 
her  a  falsehood — a  cruel,  wicked  falsehood — 
he  who  had  been  so  kind.  And  yet —  Ah  ! 
yes,  she  knew  well  enough  that  it  was  all 
true ;  something  told  her  so.  The  lancinating 
pain  of  doubt  passed  away,  and  she  remained 
thinking  of  the  impossibility  of  bearing  any 
longer  with  her  life. 

An  hour  passed,  and  the  servant  came  with 
the  news  that  Mr.  Price  and  Mrs.  Bentley  had 
gone  to  London ;  they  had  taken  the  half-past 
five  train.  "  Yes,"  she  said,  "  I  know  they 
have."  Her  voice  was  calm.  There  was  a 
strange,  hollow  ring  in  it,  and  the  servant 
wondered.  A  few  minutes  after  dinner  was 
announced;  and  to  escape  observation  and 
comment  she  went  into  the  dining-roorn,  tasted 
the  soup,  and  took  a  slice  of  mutton  on  her 
plate.  She  could  not  eat  it  She  gave  it  to 


252  VAIN  FORTUNE 

Dandy.  It  was  the  last  time  she  should  feed 
him.  How  hungry  he  was  !  She  hoped  he 
would  not  care  to  eat  it;  he  would  not  if  he 
knew  she  was  going  to  leave  him. 

In  the  drawing-room  he  insisted  on  being 
nursed  ;  and  alone,  amid  the  faded  furniture 
watched  over  by  the  old  portraits,  her  pale  face 
fixed  and  her  pale  hands  clasping  her  beloved 
dog,  she  sat  thinking,  brooding  over  the  un- 
happiness,  the  incurable  unhappiness,  of  her 
little  life.  She  was  absorbed  in  self,  and  did 
not  rail  against  Hubert,  or  even  Julia.  Their 
personalities  had  somehow  dropped  out  of  her 
mind,  and  merely  represented  forces  against 
which  she  found  herself  unable  any  longer  to 
contend.  Nor  was  she  surprised  at  what  had 
happened.  There  had  always  been  in  her 
some  prescience  of  her  fate.  She  and  un- 
happiuess  had  always  seemed  so  inseparable 
that  she  had  never  found  it  difficult  to  believe 
that  this  last  misfortune  would  befall  her. 
She  had  thought  it  over,  and  had  decided  that 
it  would  be  unendurable  to  live  any  longer, 
and  had  borne  many  a  terrible  insomnia  so 
that  she  might  collect  sufficient  chloral  to  take 
her  out  of  her  misery ;  and  now,  as  she  sat 
thinking,  she  remembered  that  she  had  never, 


VAIN  FORTUNE  253 

never  been  nappy.  Oh  !  the  miserable  even- 
ings she  used  to  spend  when  a  child  between 
her  father  and  mother,  who  could  not  agree — 
why,  she  never  understood.  But  she  used  to 
have  to  listen  to  one  of  them  addressing  in- 
sulting speeches  to  the  other  in  a  calm,  even 
voice  that  nothing  could  alter;  and,  though 
both  were  dead  and  years  divided  her  from 
that  time,  the  memory  survived,  and  she  could 
see  it  all  again — that  room,  the  very  paper  on 
the  wall,  and  her  father  being  gradually 
worked  up  into  a  frenzy.  • 

When  she  was  left  an  orphan,  Mr.  Burnett 
had  adopted  her,  and  she  remembered  the  joy 
of  coming  to  Ashwood.  She  had  thought  to 
find  happiness  there;  but  there,  as  at  home, 
fate  had  gone  against  her,  and  she  was  hardly 
eighteen  when  Mr.  Burnett  had  asked  her  to 
marry  him.  She  had  loved  that  old  man,  but 
he  had  not  loved  her ;  for  when  she  had  re- 
fused to  marry  him  he  had  broken  all  his 
promises  and  left  her  penniless,  careless  of  what 
might  become  of  her.  Then  she  had  given  her 
whole  heart  to  Julia,  and  Julia,  too,  had  de- 
ceived her.  And  had  she  not  loved  Hubert  ? 
— no  one  would  ever  know  how  much ;  she  did 
not  know  herself — and  had  he  not  lied  to 


254  VAIN  FORTUNE 

her  ?  Oh,  it  was  very  cruel  to  deceive  a  poof 
little  girl  in  this  heartless  way !  There  was  no 
heart  in  the  world,  that  was  it — and  she  was 
all  heart ;  and  her  heart  had  been  trampled  on 
ever  since  she  could  remember.  And  when 
they  came  back  they  would  revenge  them- 
selves upon  her — insult  her  with  their  happi- 
ness ;  perhaps  insist  on  sending  her  away. 

Dandy  drowsed  on  her  lap.  The  servant 
brought  in  the  tea,  and  when  he  returned  to 
the  kitchen  he  said  he  had  never  seen  any  one 
look  so  ghost-like  as  Miss  Emily.  The  clock 
ticked  loudly  in  the  silence  of  the  old  room, 
the  hands  moving  slowly  toward  ten.  She 
waited  for  the  hour  to  strike ;  it  was  then  that 
she  usually  went  to  bed.  Her  thoughts  moved 
as  in  a  nightmare  ;  and  paramount  in  this 
chaotic  mass  of  sensation  was  an  acute  sense 
of  the  deception  that  had  been  practised  on 
her ;  with  the  consciousness,  now  firm  and  un- 
alterable, that  it  had  become  impossible  for 
her  to  live.  When  the  clock  struck  she  got 
up  from  her  chair,  and  the  movement  seemed 
to  react  on  her  brain  ;  her  thoughts  unclouded, 
and  she  went  up-stairs  thinking  clearly  of  her 
love  of  this  old  house.  The  old  gentleman  in 
the  red  coat,  his  hand  on  his  sword,  looked  on 


VAIN  FORTUNE  255 

her  benignly  ;  and  the  lady  playing  the  spinet 
smiled  as  sweetly  as  was  her  wont.  Emily 
held  up  the  candle  to  the  picture  of  the  wind- 
mill. She  had  always  loved  that  picture,  and 
the  sad  thought  came  that  she  should  never 
see  it  again.  Dandy,  who  had  galloped  up- 
stairs, stood  looking  through  the  banisters, 
wagging  his  tail. 

The  moment  she  got  into  her  room  she 
wrote  the  following  note :  "  I  have  taken  an 
overdose  of  chloral.  My  life  was  too  miser- 
able to  be  borne  any  longer.  I  forgive  those 
who  have  caused  my  unhappiness,  and  I  hope 
they  will  forgive  me  any  unhappiness  I  have 
caused  them."  They  were  nothing  to  her 
now ;  they  were  beyond  her  hate,  and  the  only 
pang  she  felt  was  parting  with  her  beloved 
Dandy.  There  he  stood  looking  at  her,  stand- 
ing on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  waiting  for  her  to 
cover  him  up  and  put  him  to  sleep  in  his  own 
corner.  "  Yes,  Dandy,  in  a  moment,  dear — 
have  patience."  She  looked  round  the  little 
room,  and,  remembering  all  that  she  had 
suffered  there,  thought  that  the  walls  must  be 
saturated  with  grief,  like  a  sponge. 

It  was  a  common  thing  at  that  time  for  her 
to  stand  before  the  glass  and  address  such 


256  VAIN  FORTUNE 

words  as  these  to  herself :  "  My  poor  girl,  how 
I  pity  you  !  how  I  pity  you  ! "  And  now, 
looking  at  herself  very  sadly,  she  said :  "  My 
poor  girl,  I  shall  never  pity  you  an}7  more!  " 
Having  hung  up  her  dress,  she  fetched  a  chair 
and  took  various  doses  of  choral  out  of  the 
hollow  top  of  her  wardrobe,  where  she  had 
hidden  things  all  her  life — sweets,  novels,  fire- 
works. They  more  than  half-filled  the  tum- 
bler ;  and,  looking  at  the  sticky  white  liquid, 
she  thought  with  repugnance  of  drinking  so 
much  of  it.  But,  wanting  to  make  quite  sure 
of  death,  she  resolved  to  take  it  all,  and  she 
undressed  quickly.  She  was  very  cold  when 
she  got  into  bed.  Then  a  thought  struck 
her,  and  she  got  of  bed  to  add  a  postscript  to 
her  letter.  "  I  have  only  one  request  to  make, 
I  hope  Dandy  will  always  be  taken  care  of." 
Surprised  that  she  had  not  wrapped  him  up 
and  told  him  he  was  to  go  to  sleep,  the  dog 
stood  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  watching  her  so 
earnestly  that  she  wondered  if  he  knew  what 
she  was  going  to  do.  "  No,  you  don't  know, 
dear — do  you  ?  If  you  did,  you  wouldn't  let 
me  do  it ;  you'd  bark  the  house  down,  I  know 
you  would,  my  own  darling."  Clasping  him 
to  her  breast,  she  smothered  him  with  kisses 


VAIN  FORTUNE  257 

then  put  him  away  in  his  corner,  covering 
him  over  for  the  night. 

She  felt  neither  grief  nor  fear.  Through 
much  suffering,  thought  and  sensation  were, 
to  a  great  extent,  dead  in  her  ;  and,  in  a  sort 
of  emotive  numbness,  she  laid  her  candlestick 
in  its  usual  place  on  the  chair  by  her  bedside; 
and,  sitting  up  in  bed,  her  night-dress  care- 
fully buttoned,  holding  the  tumbler  half-filled 
with  chloral,  she  tried  to  take  a  dispassionate 
survey  of  her  life.  She  thought  of  what  she 
had  endured,  and  what  she  would  have  to 
endure  if  she  did  not  take  it.  Then  she  felt 
she  must  go,  and  without  hesitation  drank  off 
the  chloral.  She  placed  the  tumbler  by  the 
candlestick,  and  lay  down,  remembering 
vaguely  that  a  long  time  ago  she  had  decided 
that  suicide  was  not  wrong  in  'itself.  The 
last  thing  she  remembered  was  the  clock 
striking  eleven. 

For  half  an  hour  she  slept  like  stone. 
Then  her  eyes  opened,  and  they  told  of  sick- 
ness now  in  motion  within  her.  And,  strangely 
enough,  through  the  overpowering  nausea 
rising  from  her  stomach  to  her  brain,  the 
thought  that  she  was  not  going  to  die 
appeared  perfectly  clear,  and  with  it  a  sense 
17 


258  VAIN  FORTUNE 

of  disappointment ;  she  would  have  to  begin 
it  all  over  again.  It  was  with  great  difficulty 
that  she  struck  a  match  and  lighted  a  candle. 
It  seemed  impossible  to  get  up.  At  last  she 
managed  to  slip  her  legs  out  of  bed,  and 
found  she  could  stand,  and  through  the  various 
assaults  of  retching  she  thought  of  the  letter : 
it  must  be  destroyed ;  and,  leaning  in  the 
corner  against  the  wall  and  the  wardrobe,  she 
tried  to  recover  herself.  A  dull,  deep  sleep 
was  pressing  on  her  brain,  and  she  thought 
she  would  never  be  able  to  cross  the  room  to 
where  the  letter  was.  Dandy  looked  out  of 
his  rug ;  she  caught  sight  of  his  bright 
eyes. 

On  cold  and  shaky  feet  she  attempted  to 
make  her  way  towards  the  letter ;  but  the 
room  heaved  up  at  her,  and,  fearing  she 
should  fall,  and  knowing  if  she  did  that  she 
would  not  be  able  to  regain  her  feet,  she  clung 
to  the  toilette-table.  She  must  destroy  that 
letter:  if  it  were  found  they  would  watch 
her ;  and,  however  impossible  her  life  might 
become,  she  would  not  be  able  to  escape  from 
it.  This  consideration  gave  her  strength  for 
a  final  effort.  She  tore  the  letter  into  very 
small  pieces,  and  then  clinging  to  a  chair, 


VAIN  FORTUNE  259 

strove  to  grasp  the  rail  of  the  bed ;  but  the 
bed  rolled  worse  than  any  ship.  Making  a 
supreme  effort,  she  got  in ;  and  then,  neither 
dreams  nor  waking  thoughts,  but  oblivion 
complete.  Hours  and  hours  passed,  and  when 
she  opened  her  eyes  her  maid  stood  over  the 
bed,  looking  at  her. 

"Oh,  miss,  you  looked  so  tired  and  ill  that 
1  didn't  wake  you.  You  do  seem  poorly, 
miss.  It  is  nearly  two  o'clock.  Should  you 
like  to  sleep  a  little  longer,  or  shall  I  bring 
you  up  some  breakfast  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  no,  thank  you,  I  couldn't  touch 
anything.  I'm  feeling  wretched ;  but  I'll 
get  up." 

The  maid  tried  to  dissuade  her ;  but  Emily 
got  out  of  bed,  and  allowed  herself  to  be 
dressed.  She  was  very  weak — so  weak  that 
she  could  hardly  stand  up  at  the  wash-stand ; 
and  the  maid  had  to  sponge  her  face  and 
neck.  But  when  she  had  drunk  a  cup  of  tea 
and  eaten  a  little  piece  of  toast,  she  said  she 
felt  better,  and  was  able  to  walk  into  the 
drawing  room.  She  thought  no  more  of 
death,  nor  of  her  troubles ;  thought  drowsed 
in  her  ;  and  in  a  passive,  torpid  state  she  sat 
looking  into  the  fire  till  dinner-time,  hardly 


260  VAIN  FORTUNE 

caring  to  bestow  a  casual  caress  on  Dandy, 
who  seemed  conscious  of  his  mistress's  neglect, 
for,  in  his  sly,  coaxing  way,  he  sometimes 
came  and  rubbed  himself  against  her  feet. 
She  went  into  the  dining-room,  and  the  ser- 
vant was  glad  to  see  that  she  finished  her 
soup,  and,  though  she  hardly  tasted  it,  she 
finished  a  wing  of  a  chicken,  and  also  the 
glass  of  wine  which  the  man  pressed  upon 
her.  Half  an  hour  after,  when  he  brought 
out  the  tea,  he  found  her  sitting  on  her 
habitual  chair,  nursing  her  dog  and  staring 
into  the  fire  so  drearily  that  her  look  fright- 
ened him,  and  he  hesitated  before  he  gave 
her  the  letter  which  had  just  come  up  from 
the  town ;  but  it  was  marked  "  Immedi- 
ate." 

When  he  left  the  room  she  opened  it  It 
was  from  Mrs.  Bentley. 

"  DEAREST  EMILY  : — I  know  that  Hubert  told  you 
that  he  was  not  going  to  marry  me.  He  thought  he 
was  not,  for  I  had  refused  to  marry  him  ;  but  a  short 
time  after  we  met  in  the  park  quite  accidentally,  and — 
well,  fate  took  the  matter  out  of  our  hands,  and  we  are 
to  be  married  to-morrow.  Hubert  insists  on  going  to 
Italy,  and  I  believe  we  shall  remain  there  two  months. 
We  have  made  arrangements  for  your  aunt  to  live  with 
you  until  we  come  back  ;  and  when  we  do  come  back,  I 


VAIN  FORTUNE  261 

hope  all  the  little  unpleasantnesses  which  have  marred 
our  friendship  for  this  last  month  or  two  will  be  for- 
gotten. So  far  as  I  am  concerned,  nothing  shall  be  left 
undone  to  make  you  happy.  Your  will  shall  be  law  at 
Ash  wood  so  long  as  I  am  there.  If  you  would  like  to 
join  us  in  Italy,  you  have  only  to  say  the  word.  We 
shall  be  delighted  to  have  you." 

Emily  could  read  no  more.  "Join  them  in 
Italy  !  "  She  dashed  the  letter  into  the  fire, 
and  an  intense  hatred  of  them  both  pierced 
her  heart  and  brain.  It  was  the  kiss  of  Judas. 
Oh,  those  hateful,  lying  words  !  To  live  here 
with  her  aunt  until  they  came  back,  to  wait 
here  quietly  until  she  returned  in  triumph 
with  him— him  who  had  been  all  the  world  to 
her !  Oh,  no ;  that  was  not  possible.  Death, 
death — escape  she  must.  But  how  ?  She 
had  no  more  chloral.  Suddenly  she  thought 
of  the  lake.  "  Yes,  yes ;  the  lake,  the  lake ! " 
And  then  a  keen,  swift,  passionate  longing 
for  death,  such  as  she  had  not  felt  at  all  the 
night  before,  came  upon  her.  There  was 
the  knowledge,  too,  that  by  killing  herself 
she  would  revenge  herself  on  those  who 
had  killed  her.  She  was  just  conscious 
that  her  suicide  would  have  this  effect,  but 
hardly  a  trace  of  such  intention  appeared 
in  the  letter  she  wrote ;  it  was  as  melan- 


262  VAIN  FORTUNE 

choly  and  as  brief  as  the  letter  she  had  torn 
up,  and  ended,  like  it,  with  a  request  that 
Dandy  should  be  well  looked  after.  She 
had  only  just  directed  the  envelope  when  she 
heard  the  servant  coming  to  take  away  the 
tea-things.  She  concealed  the  letter ;  and 
when  his  steps  died  away  in  the  corridor 
and  the  house  door  closed,  she  knew  she 
could  slip  out  unobserved.  Instinctively  she 
thought  of  her  hat  and  jacket,  and,  without 
a  shudder,  remembered  she  would  not  need 
them.  She  sped  down  the  pathway  through 
the  shadow  of  the  firs. 

It  was  one  of  those  warm  nights  of  winter 
when  a  sulphur-colored  sky  hangs  like  a 
blanket  behind  the  wet,  dishevelled  woods ; 
and,  though  there  was  neither  moon  nor  star, 
the  night  was  strangely  clear,  and  the  shadow 
of  the  bridge  was  distinct  in  the  water. 
When  she  approached  the  brink  the  swans 
moved  slowly  away.  They  reminded  her  of 
•the  cold  ;  but  the  black  obsession  of  death 
was  upon  her;  and,  hastening  her  steps,  she 
threw  herself  forward.  She  fell  into  shallow 
water  and  regained  her  feet,  and  for  a  mo- 
ment it  seemed  uncertain  if  she  would  wade 
to  the  bank  or  fling  herself  into  a  deeper 


VAIN  FORTUNE  263 

place.  Suddenly  she  sank,  the  water  rising 
to  her  shoulders.  She  was  lifted  off  her  feet. 
A  faint  struggle,  a  faint  cry,  and  then  noth- 
ing— nothing  but  the  whiteness  of  the  swans 
moving  through  the  sultry  night  slowly  to- 
ward the  island. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

"  THEY  ought  to  be  back  from  the  theatre 
by  now.  They'll  want  a  nice  fire.  I  always 
likes  to  make  a  newly-married  couple  com- 
fortabla" 

"  When  were  they  married  ?  " 

"  This  morning.  We  must  make  the  room 
look  nice.  Better  light  the  candles ;  they'll 
be  home  in  a  few  minutes." 

Its  rich,  inanimate  air  proclaimed  the  room 
to  be  an  expensive  bedroom  in  a  first-class 
London  hotel.  Interest  in  the  newly-married 
couple,  who  were  to  occupy  the  room,  prompt- 
ed the  servants  to  see  that  nothing  was  for- 
gotten ;  and  as  they  lingered  steps  were  heard 
in  the  passage,  and  Hubert  and  Julia  entered. 
The  maid-servants  stood  aside  to  let  them 
pass,  and  one  inquired  if  madame  wanted 
anything,  so  that  her  eyes  might  be  gratified 
with  a  last  inquisition  of  the  happy  pair. 

"  How  wonderful !  oh,  how  wonderful !  I 
don't  think  I  ever  saw  any  one  act  before  like 
that— did  you?" 


VAIN  FORTUNE  265 

"She  certainly  had  three  or  four  moments 
that  could  not  be  surpassed.  Her  entrance 
in  the  sleep-walking  scene  —  what  vague 
horror !  what  pale  presentiment !  how  she 
filled  the  stage  !  nothing  seemed  to  exist  but 
she." 

"And  Ford — what  did  you  think  of  Ford's 
Macbeth  ?  " 

"  Very  good.  Everything  he  does  is  good. 
Talent — but  the  other  has  genius." 

"  I  shall  never  forget  this  evening.  What 
an  awful  tragedy  !  " 

"  Perhaps  I  should  have  taken  you  to  see 
something  more  cheerful ;  but  I  wanted  to 
see  Miss  Massey  play  Lady  Macbeth.  But 
let  us  talk  of  something  else.  We  are  very 
well  here.  Splendid  fire — is  it  not?" 

She  slipped  her  long  cloak  from  her  shoul- 
ders. The  gown  was  pale  blue,  with  a  bunch 
of  pale  roses  on  the  shoulder  and  a  garland 
of  pale  roses  on  the  skirt,  and  in  the  candle 
and  firelight  her  pale  hair  filled  with  rich 
tones.  Hubert  threw  off  his  overcoat,  and  in 
the  black  and  white  of  his  evening  clothes 
his  tall,  thin  figure  drew  a  look  of  admira- 
tion from  Julia.  Hubert  surprised  that  look; 
his  face  changed  expression,  and  he  said : 


266  VAIN  FORTUNE 

"  Dearest,  let  me  kiss  you ;  "  and,  leaning  up 
to  her,  for  he  was  seated  in  the  arm-chair,  he 
drew  her  down  to  him,  and  their  lips  lingered 
in  a  long  and  intoxicating  embrace.  She  sat 
upon  his  knee  and  stretched  her  feet  to  the 
fira  "I'm  so  happy,"  he  said,  "that  I  fear 
it  must  be  only  a  dream.  But  you  are  with 
me.  Say  that  it  is  not  a  dream ! " 

"Yes,  I'm  here  with  you.  Why  do  you 
think  it  is  only  a  dream  ?  " 

"  Because  my  life  now  is  a  perfect  realiza- 
tion of  the  life  I  desired  when  I  was  poor  and 
miserable;  and  no  man  ever  attains  his  ideal." 

"And  were  you  ever  really  poor  ?  I  mean, 
did  you  ever  really  want  ?  " 

•'Want  a  dinner?  Yes,  for  whole  weeks 
together,  when  I  was  writing  '  The  Gipsy,'  I 
lived  on  tenpence  and  a  shilling  a  day.  For 
three  days— for  the  better  part  of  a  week — I 
worked  in  the  docks  as  a  laborer.  I  went 
down  there  hoping  to  get  a  clerkship  on  board 
one  of  the  transatlantic  steamers.  I  had  had 
enough  of  England,  and  thought  of  seeking 
fortune  elsewhere." 

"I  can  hardly  believe  you  worked  as  a 
laborer  in  the  docks." 

"  Yes,  I  did.    I  awoke  one  morning  without 


VAIN  FORTUNE  267 

a  penny-piece.  I  saw  some  men  going  to 
work,  and  I  joined  them.  I  don't  think  I 
thought  much  about  it  at  the  time.  A  very 
little  misery  rubs  all  the  psychology  out  of 
us,  and  we  return  more  easily  than  one  thinks 
to  the  animal." 

"  And  then  ?  " 

"  At  the  end  of  a  week  the  work  began  to 
tell  upon  me,  and  I  drifted  back  in  search  of 
my  manuscript" 

"But  you  must  have  been  in  a  dreadful 
condition ;  your  clothes " 

"  Ah !  thereby  hangs  a  tale.  An  actress 
lived  in  one  of  the  houses  I  had  been  lodging 
in." 

"  Oh,  tell  me  about  her !  This  is  getting 
very  interesting." 

Then  passing  his  arm  round  his  wife's  neck, 
and  with  her  sweet  blond  face  looking  upon 
him,  and  the  insinuating  warmth  of  the  fire 
about  them,  he  told  how  Rose  had  lent  him 
five  shillings  to  buy  a  hat,  and  how  he  had 
gone  to  see  Ford.  He  told  of  the  terrible  first 
night,  of  the  fight  that  the  younger  critics  had 
made  against  thegrossness  of  public  taste,  and 
the  stupidity  and  animosity  of  the  veteran 
critics  who  wrote  in  morning  papers.  Hubert 


268  VAIN  FORTUNE 

told  the  story  with  such  directness  and  sim- 
plicity that  the  illusion  was  complete  —  it 
seemed  like  a  real  scene  she  was  witnessing, 
it  was  passing  under  her  very  eyes. 

"But,"  she  said,  her  voice  trembling,  "you 
would  not  have  committed  suicide  ?  " 

"No  man  knows  beforehand  whether  he 
will  commit  suicide.  I  can  only  say  that 
every  other  issue  was  closed." 

At  the  end  of  a  long  silence  Julia  said:  "I 
wish  you  hadn't  spoken  about  suicide.  I' can- 
not but  think  of  Emily.  If  she  were  to  make 
away  with  herself!  The  very  possibility 
turns  my  heart  to  ice.  What  should  I  do — 
what  should  we  do  ?  I  ought  never  to  have 
given  way  ;  we  were  both  abominably  selfish. 
I  can  see  that  poor  girl  sitting  alone  in  that 
house  grieving  her  heart  out" 

"  You  ought  never  to  have  given  way  !  A 
nice  speech  indeed  to  make,  and  on  your  wed- 
ding night" 

"  You  know  what  I  mean  !  "  she  said,  clasp, 
ing  her  arms  about  him,  and  kissing  him. 
Hubert  took  her  arms  in  his  hands,  and 
looked  at  her.  He  thought  he  had  never  seen 
anything  so  exquisite  as  her  white  beauty  in 
the  romantic  voluptuousness  of  the  firelight 


VAIN  FORTUNE  269 

"Nothing  will  happen,"  he  said,  to  assure 
her.  "  My  life  has  been  always  full  of  agita- 
tion, and  yet  nothing  happened.  My  mar- 
riage is  the  one  real  event." 

"  The  most  terrible  things  often  happen — 
have  happened." 

"  Emily  may  have  been  fond  of  me — I  think 
she  was ;  but  it  was  no  more  than  the  hysteri- 
cal caprice  of  a  young  girl.  Besides,  people  do 
not  die  for  love ;  and  I  assure  you  it  will  be 
all  right.  This  is  not  a  time  for  gloomy 
thoughts.  Kiss  me." 

"  I'll  try  not  to  think  of  her.  Well,  what 
were  we  talking  about?  I  know:  about  the 
actress  who  lived  in  17  Fitzroy  Street  Tell 
me  about  her." 

"  She  was  a  real  good  girl.  If  she  hadn't 
lent  me  that  five  shillings,  I  don't  know 
where  I  should  be  now." 

"  Were  you  very  fond  of  her  ?  " 

"  No ;  there  was  never  anything  of  that  sort 
between  us.  We  were  merely  friends." 

"Truly?  Am  I  to  believe  that?  Didn't 
you  love  her  a  little  bit?  " 

"No,  dearest  wife,  I  did  not;  you  have  all 
my  love." 

"  Yes  ;  but  the  past  ?  " 


270  VAIN  FORTUNE 

"  There  was  neither  love  nor  cheerfulness 
in  the  past." 

"  And  what  has  become  of  this  actress  ? 
Have  you  lost  sight  of  her  ?  " 

"  You  must  think  me  very  ungrateful.  No ; 
I  saw  her  to-night." 

"  You  saw  her  to-night?  " 

"  Yes  ;  were  we  not  at  the  theatre  ?  " 

"  Was  she  acting  in  the  piece  we  saw  to- 
night?" 

"It  was  she  who  played  Lady  Macbeth." 

"  You  are  joking." 

"No,  I'm  not  I  always  knew  she  had 
genius,  and  they  have  found  it  out;  but  I 
must  say  they  have  taken  their  time  about 
it." 

"  How  wonderful !  she  has  succeeded  ! " 

"  Yes,  she  has  succeeded." 

• 

"And  she  is  really  the  girl  you  intended  to 
play  Lady  Hay  ward  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  I  hope  she  will  play  the  part  one 
of  these  days." 

"  Of  course,  she  is  just  the  woman  for  it. 
What  a  splendid  success  she  has  had !  All 
London  is  talking  about  her." 

"  And  I  remember  when  Ford  refused  to 
cast  her  for  the  adventuress  in  'Divorce.'  If  he 


VAIN  FORTUNE  271 

had,  there  is  no  doubt  she  would  have  carried 
the  piece  through.  Life  is  but  a  bundle  of 
chances;  she  has  succeeded,  whatever  that 
may  mean." 

"But  you  will  let  her  have  the  part  of 
Lady  Hay  ward  ?  " 

"  Yes,  of  course — that  is  to  say,  if " 

"Why  'if'?" 

"  My  thoughts  are  with  you,  dear ;  litera- 
ture seems  to  have  passed  out  of  sight." 

"  But  you  must  not  sacrifice  your  talent  in 
worship  of  me.  I  shall  not  allow  you.  For 
my  sake,  if  not  for  hers,  you  must  finish  that 
play.  I  want  you  to  be  famous.  I  should 
be  forever  miserable  if  my  love  proved  a 
upas-tree." 

"  A  upas-tree !  It  will  be  you  who  will 
help  me;  it  will  be  your  presence  that  will 
help  me  to  write  my  play.  I  was  always 
vaguely  conscious  that  you  were  a  necessary 
element  in  my  life  ;  but  I  did  not  wake  up  to 
any  knowledge  of  it  until  that  day — do  you 
remember? — when  youvcame  into  my  study 
to  ask  me  what  fish  I'd  like  for  dinner,  and  I 
begged  of  you  to  allow  me  to  read  to  you 
that  second  act  It  is  that  second  act  that 
stops  me." 


272  VAIN  FORTUNE 

"I  thought  you  had  written  the  second  act 
to  jour  satisfaction.  You  said  that  after  the 
talk  we  had  that  afternoon  you  wrote  for  three 
hours  without  stopping,  and  that  you  had 
never  done  better  work." 

"  Yes,  I  wrote  a  great  deal ;  but  on  reading 
it  over  I  found  that — I  don't  mean  to  say  that 
none  of  it  will  stand ;  some  still  seems  to  me 
to  be  all  right,  but  a  great  deal  will  require 
alteration." 

The  conversation  fell.  At  the  end  of  a  long 
silence  Hubert  said : 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of,  dearest  ?  " 

"I  was  thinking  that  supposing  you  were 
mistaken — if  I  failed  to  help  you  in  your 
work." 

"  And  I  never  succeeded  in  writing  my 
play?" 

"  No,  I  don't  mean  that.  Of  course  you 
will  write  your  play  ;  all  you  have  to  do  is  to 
be  less  critical." 

"  Yes,  I  know — I  have  heard  that  before  ; 
but,  unfortunately,  we  cannot  change  our- 
selves. I'll  either  carry  my  play  through 
completely,  realize  my  ideal,  or 

"  Remain  forever  unsatisfied  ?  " 

Hubert  hesitated  ;  they  looked  at  each  other 


VAIN  FORTUNE  273 

a  moment  fixedly ;  then  he  answered :  "  You 
have  said  it." 

"  But,"  said  Julia — there  was  a  slight  note 
of  alarm  in  her  voice  which  she  sought  to  dis- 
guise— "  we  are  going  to  Italy.  You  said  you 
loved  me.  I  give  you  all  my  love,  as  much 
at  a  woman  ever  gave  to  man.  Yes,  and 
Fortune  has  given  you  wealth,  and  now  you 
can  do  with  your  life  as  you  will.  .  .  .  We 
are  lovers  ;  we  are  going  to  Italy.  Think  of 
the  long  days  we  shall  spend  together !  and 
you  will  show  me  all  that  is  to  be  seen — ruins, 
pictures,  statues  .  .  .  you  will  teach  me! 
And  you'll  have  patience  with  me,  for  I  am 
very  ignorant.  .  .  .  Yes,  we  shall  be  very 
happy.  Fortune  has  conspired  to  make  us 
happy.  So  why  think  of  that  play  at  all — I 
mean  for  the  present  ?  " 

"  I  will  think  of  it  as  little  as  may  be,  and 
whether  I  write  it  or  no  I  shall  be  happy  in 
your  love." 

"  Yes,  yes ;  let  us  be  happy." 

Hubert  and  Julia  looked  at  each  other.  He 
did  not  speak,  but  his  thought  said :  "  There 
is  no  happiness  on  earth  for  him  who  has  not 
accomplished  his  task." 

"  I  wonder  if  I  shall  make  you  happy  ?  The 
18 


274  VAIN  FORTUNE 

day  will  come  when  my  love  will  cease  to 
charm  you,  and  you  will  seek  distraction 
again  in  your  study." 

"  I  do  not  think  so.  We  attach  too  much 
importance  to  a  little  scribbling  on  paper,  to  a 
little  daubing  on  canvas.  I  will  not  think  of 
my  play  :  I  will  forget  everything  in  love  •£ 
you."  ' 

"  No,  I  would  not  have  you  forget  it." 

Hubert  sighed,  and  then  he  continued : 
"  You  are  here ;  Italy  awaits  us — its  skies, 
its  cities,  its  palaces  ;  and  with  you  for  com- 
panion, tell  me,  is  not  the  prospect  alluring? 
And  you  would  have  me  sacrifice  all  the 
beautiful,  intoxicating  reality  for  the  folly 
of  a  vulgar  ambition,  and  such  an  ambition — 
such  scribbling  on  paper  as  would  succeed  in 
awaking  some  clapping  of  hands  and  a  few 
cries  of  applause  among  a  herd  of  half-edu- 
cated people.  But,  leaving  me  out  of  it — my 
desires  and  my  beliefs — tell  me,  do  you  not 
hunger  for  life?  Is  there  no  longing  in  you 
for  ease,  for  leisure,  for  love?  Do  you  not 
want  to  drink  one  draught  of  the  golden  cup  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed  I  do.  We  have  both  suffered, 
we  are  both  tired  of  suffering,  and  it  is  only 
right  that  we  should  be  happy." 


VAIN  FORTUNE  275 

"  There,  I  like  to  hear  you  talk  so ;  I  would 
have  you  enjoy  life  even  as  I  intend  to  enjoy 
it  Long  suffering  has  whetted  our  appetites. 
We  shall  feast  well.  It  shall  be  my  pleasure 
to  attend  you,  to  give  you  all  your  desire. 
But  you  said  just  now  that  you  had  suffered. 
I  have  told  you  my  past.  Tell  me  yours.  I 
know  nothing  except  that  you  were  unhappily 
married." 

"  There  is  little  else  to  know ;  a  woman's 
life  is  not  adventurous  like  a  man's.  I  have 
not  known  the  excitement  of  '  first  nights,'  nor 
the  striving  and  the  craving  for  an  artistic 
ideal.  My  life  has  been  essentially  a  woman's 
life — suppression  of  self  and  monotonous  duty? 
varied  by  heart-breaking  misfortune.  I  mar- 
ried when  I  was  very  young ;  before  I  had 
even  begun  to  think  about  life  I  found — 
But  why  distress  these  hours  with  painful 
memories  ?  " 

"  It  is  pleasant  to  look  back  on  the  troubles 
we  have  passed  through ;  the  memory  gives  a 
keener  zest  to  present  happiness.  Besides,  I 
I  want  to  know  all  your  life ;  it  seems  to  me 
that  I  must  know  all  to  possess  you  wholly." 

"Well,  I  learnt  in  one  year  the  meaning 
of  three  terrible  words — poverty,  neglect,  and 


276  VAIN  FORTUNE 

cruelty.  In  the  second  year  of  my  marriage 
my  husband  died  of  drink,  and  I  was  left  a 
widow  at  twenty,  entirely  penniless.  I  went 
to  live  with  my  sister,  and  she  was  so  poor 
that  I  had  to  support  myself  by  giving  music 
lessons.  You  think  you  know  the  meaning 
of  poverty :  you  may  ;  but  you  do  not  know 
what  a  young  woman  who  wants  to  earn  her 
bread  honestly  has  to  put  up  with,  trudging 
through  wet  and  cold,  mile  after  mile,  to 
give  a  lesson,  paid  for  at  the  rate  of  one-and- 
sixpence  or  two  shillings  an  hour." 

The  conversation  came  to  a  pause.  Julia 
took  her  eyes  from  her  husband's  face,  and 
looked  dreamily  into  the  fire.  Then,  raising 
her  face  from  the  flame,  she  looked  around 
with  the  air  of  one  seeking  for  some  topic  of 
conversation.  At  that  moment  she  caught 
sight  of  the  corner  of  a  letter  lying  on  the 
mantelpiece.  Beaching  forth  her  hand,  she 
took  it.  It  was  addressed  to  her  husband. 

"  Here  is  a  letter  for  you,  Hubert  .  .  . 
Why,  it  comes  from  Ashwood.  Yes,  and  it 
is  in  the  handwriting  of  one  of  the  servants. 
Oh,  it  is  Black's  writing  !  It  may  be  about 
Emily.  Something  may  have  happened  to 
her.  Open  it  quickly." 


VAIN  FORTUNE  277 

"  That  is  not  probable.  Nothing  can  have 
happened  to  her." 

"  Look  and  see.     Be  quick  !  " 

Hubert  opened  the  letter,  and  he  had  not 
read  three  lines  when  Julia's  face  caught  ex- 
pression from  his,  which  had  become  over- 
cast. 

"It  is  bad  news,  I  know.  Something  has 
happened.  What  is  it  ?  Don't  keep  me  wait- 
ing. The  suspense  is  worse  than  the  truth." 

"It  is  very  awful,  Julia.     Don't  give  way." 

"  Tell  me  what  it  is.     Is  she  dead  ?  " 

"  Yes,  she  is  dead."  Julia  grew  pale  as  the 
dead,  and  she  got  up  from  her  husband's 
knees  and  stood  by  the  mantelpiece,  leaning 
upon  it.  "  It  is  more  than  mere  death." 

"What  do  you  mean?  She  killed  herself 
—is  that  it?" 

"Yes;  she  drowned  herself  the  night  before 
last  in  the  lake." 

"Oh,  it  is  too  horrible!  Then  we  have 
murdered  her.  Our  unpardonable  selfishness ! 
I  cannot  bear  it !  "  Her  eyes  closed  and  her 
lips  trembled.  Hubert  caught  her  in  his  arms, 
laid  her  on  the  chair,  and,  fetching  some  water 
in  a  tumbler,  sprinkled  her  face;  then  he  held 
it  to  her  lips;  she  drank  a  little,  and  revived. 


278  VAIN  FORTUNE 

"I'm  not  going  to  faint.  Tell  me — tell  me 
when  the  unfortunate  child " 

"  They  don't  know  exactly.  She  was  in  the 
drawing-room  at  tea-time,  and  the  drawing- 
room  was  empty  when  Black  went  round  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour  after  to  lock  up.  He 
thought  she  had  gone  to  her  room.  It  was 
the  gardener  who  brought  in  the  news  in  the 
morning  about  nine." 

"  Oh,  good  God !  " 

"  Black  says  he  noticed  that  she  looked  very 
depressed  the  day  before,  but  he  thought  she 
was  looking  better  when  he  brought  in  the  tea.' 

"  It  was  then  she  got  my  letter.  Does  Black 
say  anything  about  giving  her  a  letter?" 

"  Yes,  that  is  to  say — 

"  I  knew  it !  I  knew  it ! "  said  Julia ;  and 
her  eyes  were  wild  with  grief,  and  she  rocked 
herself  to  and  fro.  "It  was  that  letter  that 
drove  her  to  it.  It  was  most  ill-advised.  I 
told  you  so.  You  should  have  written.  She 
would  have  borne  the  news  better  had  it  come 
from  you.  My  instinct  told  me  so,  but  I  let 
myself  be  persuaded.  I  told  you  how  it  would 
happen.  I  told  you.  You  can't  say  I  didn't. 
Oh  !  why  did  you  persuade  me — why — why 
—why?" 


VAIN  FORTUNE  279 

"Julia,  dear,  we  are  not  responsible.  "We 
were  in  no  wise  bound  to  sacrifice  our  happi- 
ness to  her " 

"Don't  say  a  word !  I  say  we  were  bound. 
Life  can  never  be  the  same  to  me  again." 

Hubert  did  not  answer.  Nothing  he  could 
say  would  be  of  the  slightest  avail,  and  he 
feared  to  say  anything  that  might  draw  from 
her  expressions  which  she  would  afterward 
regret.  He  had  never  seen  her  moved  like 
this,  nor  did  he  believe  her  capable  of  such 
agitation,  and  the  contrast  of  her  present  with 
her  usual  demeanor  made  it  the  more  im- 
pressive. 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  leaning  forward  and  look- 
ing at  him  fixedly,  "  take  this  nightmare  off 
my  brain,  or  I  shall  go  mad  !  It  isn't  true ; 
it  cannot  be  true.  But — oh  !  yes,  it's  true 
enough." 

"  Like  you,  Julia,  I  am  overwhelmed ;  but 
we  can  do  nothing." 

"  Do  nothing  !  "  she  cried ;  "  do  nothing  ! 
We  can  do  nothing  but  pray  for  her — we 
who  sacrificed  her."  And  she  slipped  on  her 
knees  and  burst  into  a  passionate  fit  of  weeping. 

"  The  best  thing  that  could  have  hap- 
pened," thought  Hubert ;  and  his  thought 


280  VAIN  FORTUNE 

said,  clearly  and  precisely :  "  Yes,  it  is  awful, 
shocking,  cruel  beyond  measure !  " 

The  fire  was  sinking,  and  he  built  it  up 
quietly,  ashamed  of  this  proof  of  his  regard 
for  physical  comfort,  and  hoping  it  would 
pass  unnoticed.  But  they  could  not  sit  with- 
out a  fire,  and  he  saw  that  their  tete-a-tcte 
might  be  unduly  prolonged.  His  pain  ex- 
pressed itself  less  vehemently  than  Julia's  : 
but  for  all  that  his  mind  ached.  He  remem- 
bered how  he  had  taken  everything  from  her 
— fortune,  happiness,  and  now  life  itself.  It 
was  certainly  an  appalling  tragedy — one  of 
those  senseless  cruelties  which  we  find  na- 
ture so  constantly  inventing,  and  with  such 
devilish  ingenuity.  Then  a  thought  revealed 
an  unexpected  analogy  between  him  and  his 
victim.  In  both  lives  there  had  been  a  su- 
preme desire,  and  both  had  failed.  "  Hers 
was  the  better  part,"  he  said  bitterly.  ''Those 
whose  souls  are  burdened  with  desire  that 
may  not  be  gratified  had  better  fling  the  load 
aside.  They  are  fools  who  carry  it  on  to  the 
end.  ...  If  it  were  not  for  Julia " 

She  was  still  upon  her  knees,  and  she  had 
never  looked  more  beautiful  than  now,  her 
arms  flung  across  the  chair.  Her  beauty 


VAIN  FORTUNE  281 

drew  Hubert's  thoughts  from  his  play,  and 
he  remembered  how  misadventure  had  pur- 
sued them,  even  to  the  finding  of  the  letter. 
If  they  had  not  sat  up  talking,  if  she  had 
not  seen  the  letter,  if  she  had  merely  given  it 
to  him  without  seeing  where  it  came  from  ! 
Then  he  sought  to  determine  what  were  his 
exact  feelings.  He  knew  he  was  infinitely 
sorry  for  poor  Emily ;  but  he  could  not  stir 
himself  into  a  paroxysm  of  grief,  and,  ashamed 
of  his  inability  to  express  his  feelings,  he 
looked  at  Julia,  who  still  wept 

"  No  doubt,"  he  thought,  "  women  have 
keener  feelings  than  we  have." 

At  that  moment  Julia  got  up  from  her 
knees.  She  had  brushed  away  her  tears. 
Her  face  was  shaken  with  grief. 

"  My  heart  is  breaking,"  she  said.  "  This 
is  too  cruel — too  cruel !  And  on  my  wedding 
night," 

Their  eyes  met ;  and,  divining  each  other's 
thought,  each  felt  ashamed,  and  Julia  said : 

"  Oh,  what  am  I  saying  ?  This  dreadful 
selfishness,  from  which  we  cannot  escape,  that 
js  with  us  even  in  such  a  moment  as  this ! 
That  poor  child  gone  to  her  death,  and  yet 
amid  it  all  we  must  think  of  ourselves." 


282  VAIN  FORTUNE 

"  My  dear  Julia,  we  cannot  escape  from  our 
human  nature;  but,  for  all  that,  our  grief  is 
sincere.  We  can  do  nothing.  Do  not  grieve 
like  that." 

"  And  why  not  ?  She  was  ray  best  friend. 
How  have  I  repaid  her  ?  Alas  !  as  woman 
always  repays  woman  for  kindness  dona  The 
old  story.  I  cannot  forgive  myself.  No,  no! 
do  not  kiss  me  !  I  cannot  bear  it.  Leave  me. 
I  can  see  nothing  but  Emily's  reproachful 
face."  She  covered  her  face  in  her  hands  and 
sobbed  again. 

The  same  scenes  repeated  themselves  over 
and  over  again.  The  same  fits  of  passionate 
grief  ;  the  same  moment  of  calm,  when  words 
impregnated  with  self  dropped  from  their  lips. 
The  same  nervous  sense  that  something  of 
the  dead  girl  stood  between  them.  And 
still  they  sat  by  the  fire,  weary  with  sorrow, 
recrimination,  long  regret,  and  pain.  They 
could  grieve  no  more ;  and  before  dawn  sleep 
pressed  upon  their  eyelids,  and  at  the  end  of 
a  long  silence  he  dozed — a  pale,  transparent 
sleep,  through  which  the  realities  of  life  ap- 
peared almost  as  plainly  as  before.  Suddenly 
he  awoke,  and  he  shivered  in  the  chill  room. 
The  fire  was  sinking ;  dawn  divided  the  win- 


VAIN  FORTUNE  283 

dow  curtains.  He  took  his  overcoat  from  the 
bed,  and  his  hand  met  the  evening  paper  he 
had  thrust  unread  into  his  pocket.  He  opened 
and  glanced  through  the  paper  until  his  eyes 
were  arrested  by  his  own  name.  "So  they 
are  still  thinking  of  'The  Gipsy.'"  .  .  .  In- 
stantly his  thoughts  wandered  into  some  new 
scheme  of  reconstruction.  But  dismissing 
these  involuntary  hopes  abruptly,  he  looked 
at  his  wife.  She  seemed  to  him  very  beautiful 
as  she  slept;  her  face  turned  a  little  on  one 
side,  and  he  asked  himself  if  he  loved  her. 
Then,  going  to  the  window,  he  drew  the  cur- 
tains softly,  so  as  not  to  awaken  her;  and  as 
he  stood  watching  a  thin,  discolored  day  now 
breaking  over  the  roofs,  it  seemed  to  him  that 
Emily's  suicide  was  the  better  part.  "  Those 
who  do  not  perform  their  task  in  life  are  never 
happy."  The  words  drilled  themselves  into 
his  brain  with  relentless  insistency.  .  .  . 
Should  he  ever  be  happy  any  more  ?  Surely 
Emily's  suicide  was  the  better  part. 

"  Hubert !  "  It  was  Julia  calling  him.  Pale 
and  overworn,  but  in  all  her  woman's  beauty, 
she  came,  offering  herself  as  compensation  for 
the  burden  of  life. 


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